Rosalie's Story
by TexasTripletMom
Summary: Drama/Angst/Romance-Events surrounding Rosalie's disappearance & beginning of her immortal existence. CH1/2 Vera's POV. Ch3/4/5/8 Royce. Ch6,7,9,10,11,14,16,18 Rosalie. Ch12/13/15/17/19 Emmett. Rated M for Mature Concepts,Lang,Violence
1. My Rose

"Vera?"

I was sleeping but the tone in my husband's voice set me instantly on edge. There was a twinge to it. My name was merely two syllables, but his voice hitched, as if he were holding back overwhelming emotions -- sadness. Something horrible had happened. I squeezed my eyes tightly and braced myself.

"Vera," He repeated. "Rosalie is missing she never came home. Her father just called. They think she was abducted."

My world came crashing down around me. Without a word I sprang from my bed, donning my housecoat and slippers.

Robert caught up with me by the time I reached the front door. He wrapped one arm around my waist, grabbing the hand that reached for the doorknob, and whirled me around to face him. He wrapped me tightly in a warm embrace. Tears flooded my eyes and stained my cheeks.

"I have to find her" I sobbed; struggling, determined to free myself.

"Not in your housecoat and slippers," He urged. "It's snowing."

"Stay here with Henry," he insisted. "The Kings are putting together a search party. I'm on my way to join them."

"Oh! Robert!" I sobbed; clinging to his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. "It's absolutely terrible, I'm so afraid for Rose!" I was trembling.

My husband, my rock, my companion, held me tightly to him. He rested his cheek on top of my head. I could feel him tremble. He was crying with me.

"I am too," his voice shook.

My thoughts reeled. I pleaded with my conscience to show me a path in which Rosalie could be safe and happy, no ill having befallen her. What was the best case scenario? The possible outcomes looked bleak.

We stood in the foyer, for what seemed like an eternity, as I wrestled with my thoughts and fears. Robert pulled away from me slowly. He kissed me passionately and embraced me once more, then turned to grab his hat and coat.

"Robert?" I asked, and he turned to me. "Bring her home. Bring Rose home safely and happily." If only my will were enough to make it possible.

Without a word he turned from me; opened the door and stepped out into the snow and the darkness. I stood in the foyer for more than an hour, before Henry began to stir from his slumber.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

After nursing my son, I clutched him to me, feeling the rise and fall of his tiny chest against mine. He was snoring gently and I absent-mindedly ran my fingers through his black curls. I sat near the window and watched the sun rise on the horizon, reflecting all of the colors of dawn on the snow blanketing everything in sight.

Warm tears spilled silently from my eyes. Occasionally I allowed myself to consider the possible outcomes. Was there any hope of a happy ending for my Rose?

Could Rose have run away?

Rosalie was the happiest person I'd ever known. There was only a week until her wedding to the richest bachelor in town, the handsome Royce King, son and namesake of the bank owner. There was nothing in this world Rosalie Hale wanted more, than to be married to a rich and handsome man and to have his children. I knew Rose would not have run away.

Had she been kidnapped?  
Rose was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She was the envy of every man and woman in Rochester. Had some nefarious man taken her? It wasn't difficult to imagine. Was he holding her hostage in a dark basement somewhere? What terrible things might he have done to her?

I shuddered to think of what this wicked stranger might have done to my sweet Rose, and was overcome with renewed fear and grief for my closest friend. I sobbed uncontrollably as I imagined Rosalie cold, scared, alone. What terrible visions appeared before her eyes? I shivered to imagine the eyes of a rapist staring into those beautiful violet eyes I loved so dearly. It sickened me to imagine his strong rough hands touching her pale delicate cheek; stroking her beautiful golden hair.

I became angry. Every muscle tensed. I wanted to kill that man. I wanted to hunt him down and make him pay for what he had done to my friend, my confidante, my Rosalie.

Was Rose alive?

Was she living in fear this very moment? Did she feel the weight of her fear crushing her as it was crushing me now? Once more, I was overwhelmed with grief for my closest friend.

I wished it were me instead. I wished I could take her place so this burden could be lifted from her. I would take this horror on myself to save Rose. I couldn't bear to think of her scared, alone, in pain.

Would she fight back? Would she scream? Would she bite him and claw at him with her hands? Could she break free? Suddenly, I found a ray of hope and I clung to the thought with desperation. Could she escape?

I so desperately wanted this to be true. I pictured Rosalie stumbling in the snow; her beautiful clothes sullied, her angelic face dirty. She clutched at her waist with both arms as she ran. In my thoughts, I pictured Rose feeling ill for the things the wicked man had done to her, but she was safe. Could these horrors ever be undone? Would my happy, sweet Rose, forever, be tainted by the experience she had with the cruel man she had escaped? Would the memory of it haunt her dreams? Would I see the pain in her violet eyes for years to come?

Would it be better if this despicable man killed her instantly? Would it be better for her to not suffer long, than it would to escape to be haunted by these hideous and terrifying memories forever?

I sobbed hysterically. Tears assaulted my cheeks, falling like heavy rain from my eyes, dripping from my chin.

"My Rose! My sweet friend!" I cried out.

Henry was startled by the noise. He woke and pulled his cherub face away from my shoulder to look at me. He reached his chubby hand out to touch my face; curious by the warm tears streaming from my eyes. My body shook with sobbing as I cried. Henry laughed.

I smiled at my sweet son through my sorrow and tears. My poor sweet innocent child did not understand sorrow. He had never seen an adult cry. For all my little Henry knew I was laughing and he laughed with me.

I peppered little Henry's face with kisses. Henry. Oh my sweet darling son.

Rosalie loved him nearly as much as I did. She had always been like an aunt to him.

From the very moment I had learned of my pregnancy, Rosalie was always there enjoying every moment with me. I sobbed as I remembered how desperately she had wanted to be a mother herself.

Tears rolled down my nose as I recalled the feel of Rose's warm hand on my bloated abdomen. I remember the surprised smile she gave me when she first felt the little nudge from within me. When she would come to call she always kissed my belly goodbye as she parted.

"A kiss for the baby," she would say pressing her lips gently to my round belly. "And then a kiss for my dearest Vera," she would add as she kissed my cheek.

"I love you, my dearest friend," She would say to me.

"I love you too, my beautiful Rose," I would reply.

Would Rose live to have a child of her own? It seemed unfair to imagine her life might be taken from her, before she would know the joy of a mother's love. Would my dearest friend ever have the opportunity to feel her own child move within her womb? Why should I be blessed with the love of a child yet Rose denied the same pleasure?

What kind of monster could take my friend from me?

Rosalie was the kindest sweetest and most decent person I had ever known. Her smile lit up a room. Her laughter was the very essence of happiness. Rosalie was beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. Such happiness and contentment filled her that it spilled forth from her, affecting everyone around her.

Rosalie was a wonderful philanthropist. She gave generously of her time, dedicating herself whole heartedly to the less fortunate souls at the local orphanage. Who could take such a beautiful creature away from us? It was such a terrible waste.

I wept for Rosalie. I wept for my loss and for hers. I missed my friend. Rosalie kidnapped? Rosalie murdered? How could it be? 'Abducted,' the mere thought of the word made my stomach wretch. I was sick with worry for my lost friend. Would she ever return home? I forced my eyes closed, but the tears welling in my eyes sprung forth to join their companions on my already saturated cheeks.

I pleaded with God. "Father, I know not what outcome would be the most humane for my dearest friend, but please stay with her through this time and comfort her. And if she has already departed from this mortal existence may she have done so peacefully and hastily."

"My dearest Rose, whatever would I do without you?"

******************

*************  
**Note: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived.**

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**


	2. Yesterday

_Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away_

_Now it looks as though they're here to stay_

_Oh I believe in yesterday_

_Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be_

_There's a shadow hanging over me_

_Oh yesterday, came suddenly_

_-The Beatles_

A week ago she was here. My Rosalie sitting on a chaise with my little

Henry balanced on her knee. He was playing with the little, wooden

train his father made for him. Rosalie smiled as she watched him play.

The chair was empty now… as I also was empty.

A week passed; with no sign of dear sweet Rose, save from her hat, cast aside a few blocks from her father's house, blown into a nearby tree. Strands of my Rosalie's beautiful golden hair clung to the hat, ripped from their roots. Her hat was torn from her head. One lowly hat was the only lead the police had. Noone knew the rest of Rosalie's story. What happened to my darling friend?

The absolute worst part of this hideous course of events was not knowing what fate befell Rose.

At times I felt numb, it was the only way I could protect myself from the pain.

I neglected my feelings, allowing myself to die inside. I moved mindlessly through my days. My nights were punctuated with excruciating nightmares.

One might call them nightmares, only I was awake most of the time. Waking dreams? Terrible, wicked visions? What did the name matter? Rosalie's absence was a shadow hanging over me. Rosalie was my only thought. The rest of my days I was a ghost, an automaton, a stranger.

Not a word. Not a soul knew what happened to Rosalie. There must be one who knew; some vile, detestable individual, the one who took my Rose from me. I clenched my hands into fists. If I knew Rosalie's abductor I would kill him myself.

Every time I stared at the empty chair I could not help feeling the aching pain in my chest, the twisting sickness in my gut. Every time I gazed at the hideously, disturbingly empty chair I recalled our last conversation as if it were yesterday.

Yesterday, happiness swirled around us as the cherry blossoms of spring whipped from their trees and caught on a warm breeze. It felt like yesterday when my Rose was last here. Yesterday her entire world was laid out ahead of her. Rose nearly had everything she ever wanted. Nearly?

I choked on the sobs that leapt from my chest. Had I resigned myself to her fate? Was she doomed? Was my sweet darling Rosie doomed? Was it over now? Had I given up hope?

Still weeping, I became FURIOUS with myself.

How DARE I deign to hope? How DARE I fail to hope? What was I to do? I could never give up on my Rosalie.

I needed to get out of this house. I decided to take Henry for a walk.

I neglected Henry's carriage and opted to carry him in my arms instead. In such horrible times I felt the need to keep my son close to my heart always.

The sun was shining; the weather was warm. All told I supposed it would be considered a beautiful day, only a raincloud seemed to follow me wherever I went. Bird song filled the air with music. Rosalie loved days such as these.

I stopped in my tracks. Today was the day Rosalie intended to marry Royce King the Second, handsome son of the bank owner. Rose was deliriously happy when she came to call on me a week ago.

Most struggled in these crushing economic times. "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," President Roosevelt said. But most families were wise to fear they would be unable to keep bread on their table. The Hale family was absolutely enthralled their daughter would not have to endure such hardships.

Rosalie's future as the wife of the bank owner's son would be secure, her children would lack nothing. She would be gifted with riches beyond her wildest dreams. A lavish home, jewelry, flowers in every room, servants to cook and clean after her.

Not only was Royce King the Second wealthy, he was also handsome, his hair the fairest shade of blonde, his eyes pale blue. Rosalie boasted they would have the most beautiful children together. Rosalie Hale's life was written straight from the pages of a fairytale. How suddenly things turned dark and sinister!

It seemed like yesterday Rosalie came call. I remember well, the flush in her cheeks as she regaled me with the planned details of her extravagant wedding.

"Roses on every pew… and violets!" She exclaimed. "Violets just like the ones Royce sends me because they remind him of my beautiful eyes."

I smiled for my friend. I couldn't imagine a person more worthy of such a beautiful prosperous future. Rosalie was a saint. She always brought candy to the children in the orphanage she visited every week. The children loved her. Henry loved her.

Children! I was instantly flooded with memories of my last conversation with Rose.

I remembered as if it were yesterday, Henry balancing on Rosalie's knee, while she and I spoke of children. Rosalie could hardly wait to start a family of her own. We hoped to be pregnant at the same time and both wanted to have girls. Rosalie's daughter would be Henry's perfect match. They would fall madly in love, marry at seventeen, and we would become family -- officially. My second child, a daughter, would be both a sister to Henry and a best friend to Rosalie's daughter – just as Rosalie was always to me.

Grief and anguish were renewed as I recalled our plans. Would Rosalie have a future? Was everything taken away from her? New tears flooded my eyes.

It was painful not knowing what happened to Rose. Would it be easier to find my sweetest friend dead and know her suffering was over? Or would I rather cling to hope and picture my friend huddling in some dark basement, abused and mistreated? I could picture Rosalie: her hair rough, face hard, hating her abductor, longing for her escape. Could the monster possibly still be holding her captive?

"Oh Rose!" I cried out as hot tears assaulted my cheeks once more.

I was pulled from my disturbing thoughts when Henry smacked me in the forehead with his chubby hand. Having caught my attention my darling son grinned at me flashing his dimples.

Suddenly I realized I was still standing on the side of the street. I was carried away by my thoughts! In the same moment I noticed a flash, a gleam of gold color, from the corner of my eye. I quickly looked around me to see if someone nearby dropped something, but Henry and I were alone.

Curious, I stooped to investigate the source of this curious reflection. I picked up the brilliant shiny item and turned it over in my hand. It was a brass button. I gasped suddenly and the shiny button slipped from my hand and bounced in the street. I knew this button. It belonged to Rosalie!

Hearing the clink of the button hitting the street, I quickly dropped to my knees. I set Henry beside me, and I groped with both hands searching for the lost button. When I located my treasure, I was surprised to notice another just like it sitting beside it. I quickly combed the area and found a third and fourth button. I gathered the brass buttons in my hands and stared at them for a moment. I quickly put them in my pocket and retrieved Henry, placing him once more on my hip.

I remembered Rosalie's jacket well. It was a gift from her fiancé: A blue velvet jacket frock with brass buttons. It looked like something Katharine Hepburn would wear; it was very modern. Rosalie was so proud of her gift.

I shored up hope. Previously, these clues were likely concealed by the snow that fell when Rose went missing. Did I dare to hope these clues would help the police find Rosalie's abductor? Is it possible we might bring this horrible man to justice?

My mind turned to grim thoughts once more. We should be celebrating Rosalie's wedding today, yet we did not even have the comfort of mourning her death. Noone knew what happened to Rosalie. Was my friend suffering? Or was she dead? Not knowing was the worst part. I hoped it would not be much longer before they found my dearest friend.

I changed course and walked hastily towards the police department with evidence in my pocket.

_********_

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which the story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived.**

**References: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse, and Yesterday by the Beatles.**


	3. Scotch

Royce King the Second's POV –

*******

I had an awful dream. Sitting up in bed, I groped at the night table to my side until my fingers reached the cool wall of cut crystal. I fumbled with the top as I poured myself a glass of fine scotch.

I dreamt Rosalie Hale's ghost came to haunt me. I knew it must be her ghost, because I knew with good authority Rosalie Hale was dead. I'd seen her broken, lifeless body with my own eyes.

I threw back the scotch and poured another, taking no time to savor the taste. My head pounded.

I shuddered as I remembered my dream. Rosalie with skin white as a ghost, her golden locks waving in the wind, her eyes the brightest crimson. She sat in my window watching me sleep. I knew it was a dream because I didn't believe in ghosts. Still, Rosalie's memory haunted me. She watched me with those bright red eyes. She remembered what I did to her.

It was just my mind playing tricks on me. I threw back the second scotch and poured a third. I ran my strong hands over the delicate crystal glass. I pictured those hands covered in blood. I threw back the third scotch and poured a fourth.

I sighed with relief when the liquor began to take its effect. My mind hazed, muscles relaxed.

"Ahhhhh." I sunk deeper into the soft covers of my enormous bed. I stared at the light streaming through the open window.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

"_When the devil is she going to get here, my ass is freezing!" George complained. _

_He always was a damned whiner._

"_It'll be worth the wait," I replied, passing him the bottle of scotch. "Rosalie is the most beautiful woman in the entire world." I boasted. _

_She was mine, every man was jealous of me. And they had every right to be. I was handsome, rich, powerful… and the prettiest girl in Rochester belonged to me. No, not the prettiest in Rochester, she was prettier than any movie star. I knew she was prettier than John's damned Georgia peaches._

_John, that greasy good for nothing, with his southern drawl and his damned southern floozies, actually dared to imply that my girl wasn't the most beautiful woman in existence. He'd never seen her before, but we'd fix that shortly. _

_I knew how beautiful Rosalie was. I could feel the eyes of every man boring into her as we walked past with her on my arm. She was my little thing, my beautiful bauble. Rosalie was the most vapid girl, but she shined like a bright penny. She was mine and I loved showing her off. One Rosalie must be worth 50 of his damned sluts. _

_Oh, but John loved to talk about his two, three, four women at a time, promiscuous whores who'd do anything for a loaf of bread. I didn't have to pay for sex. I was the richest most powerful man in Rochester, save from my father, naturally. We were royalty. Anything we wanted we had. Noone ever denied us. We OWNED this town. Rochester belonged to the King family. And Rosalie belonged to me._

_Women fell all over themselves to be with me. I was a handsome devil. Rosalie was lucky to have a handsome rich man such as myself as her keeper. She'd have all the damned beautiful jackets, and pretty dresses she could ever want. She was such a vapid little thing. I played her well, sending her roses and violets every day. I was marking her for mine, and she thought I loved her, silly girl._

"_It's a quarter past eight." Donald advised, re-pocketing his watch and passing me the bottle of scotch and a cigar._

_I took a long swig of the smooth liquid; it warmed me some. I lit up the cigar and savored the sweet musky smoke in my mouth. _

"_So what's the bet then?" the damned Georgian pig asked. _

"_Name your price. I don't intend to lose this bet." I replied smugly, drinking from the bottle and passing it along._

"_What about the bakery on 9__th__?" Frank suggested taking a swig of scotch._

"_How about Rosalie Hale?" I counter offered. They all laughed._

_We were all more than a little drunk._

"_Well, what good would that do me if she's not half as pretty as you say she is?" John asked and we all laughed again. _

_The boys knew I was right, everyone but John had seen Rosalie around town. Her beauty was unparalleled. I pictured running my hands between her soft breasts and down her warm stomach. I was getting carried away with myself. I had heard too many of John's stories. _

_That damned wench was taking forever to return from her friend's house. I knew she tried to play me. She refused to be intimate with me until after our marriage. I quickly swept her off her feet, and planned on a short engagement. I would NOT be put off for long. I always got what I wanted. And I wanted to feel myself inside of Rose. _

_We'd settle this before long. I would put the Georgian in his place. Rosalie was far more beautiful than his damned Georgia peaches. I was tired of hearing his trash. _

"_So what's the bet then?" Donald asked laughing, "Your favorite car?"_

_John mulled over the offer. "Does it come with a driver?"_

"_Sure why not?" I replied. I knew he was going to lose this bet, not that it stood to damage more than my pride to give a servant and a car over to this low man._

_It didn't matter much to me what he promised me in return. Seeing his face when he realized he was wrong would be satisfaction enough. Still I needed to make him pay for his insolence. _

"_And what do I get when you have been soundly defeated?" I inquired taking another swig from the bottle of scotch. _

"_What would you say to a case of the finest scotch?" John offered._

"_Deal," I shrugged. Scotch was certainly something I would enjoy. That and the smug satisfaction of knowing I was consummating my marriage to the most beautiful woman in the world._

_Just then Rosalie rounded the corner and came into view. She was a vision, her golden hair shining in the moonlight. There were two of her, a twin walking just along side her. Both were wearing the blue jacket with the brass buttons I gave her. Check that, there were three of her. Triplets! Maybe I would have 3 women at once after all. Every one of them more beautiful than 50 of John's damned Georgia peaches._

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

I threw back the fourth scotch and poured a fifth.

*****

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which the story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived.**

**References: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**


	4. Fear

I hadn't slept in a week. Not since I dreamt of Rosalie's ghost watching me with those brilliant crimson eyes from my bedroom window.

My appearance became haggard over these last few days. If the lack of sleep wasn't responsible for my sad appearance the scotch could certainly bear the blame. I'd long since given up on using a glass and turned to drinking straight from the bottle. Scotch was like mother's milk to me.

"Mother's milk indeed!" I scoffed as I ran my trembling hand through my matted hair. The love of scotch killed my mother some years ago. It was just as well, if the drink didn't do her in I'm certain my father would finish her off before long.

George was dead. Damned fool was killed in his bed, his neck broken. I wasn't terribly sorry to loose him; he always was a royal pain in the ass. What troubled me, however, was what he said to me when last we'd spoken only a week ago.

I took another long swig from my bottle.

George, always complaining, confided he was having trouble sleeping. Apparently Rosalie's ghost paid him a little visit the same night she came to see me. I laughed at the time, certain it was a prank Frank was pulling on us both. Frank loved getting a good laugh at others' expense. But George took it very seriously. He was convinced Rosalie's ghost came back to kill him.

Now George was dead, it was all very curious indeed. I placed the bottle to my lips again, gulping the strong fluid greedily.

George, poor sap, he was quite beside himself after the fateful night with Rosalie. He was quite worried we would be caught for what we did to her. The rest of us laughed it off, of course, we owned this town. If anyone saw anything, we could easily buy off the police. I bet we could even pay the cops to hide her body for us.

The matter of her body was a curious thing, it was missing. With no body, there was no prosecution. I smiled smugly to myself. It didn't matter much to me who moved her body, though I was a little curious. Not much came of the investigation anyway, Rochester coppers were hardly on top of their game.

Sure, George laughed along with the rest of us while we had our little fun, but his heart wasn't in it. He was nervous and weak. He merely watched while the rest of us participated, even competed. We fueled each other's efforts, each taking his actions further than the last, stepping up the intensity of Rosalie's fear every time the roll of torturer switched hands.

I took another long swig of the amber nectar from the bottle and sucked it dry. I threw it aside, and felt around for a new bottle by the bed. When I heard the empty bottle break against the hearth of the fireplace my memories turned to the evening in the cold once more.

**

_John spent half the night speaking of his Georgian floozies, prostitutes who would let him have his way with them for the price of a pound of sugar. He spoke of the thrill of having three women at one time. _

_There was a glimmer in his eye, wickedness to the way his mouth twisted in pleasure when he spoke of those evenings. There was a hard edge to his voice and he trembled with excitement as he told his stories. I felt there was something about those evenings he wasn't sharing with the rest of us. Some secret pleasure he didn't share with the group._

_I heard the glass of the scotch bottle shatter. John bent to pickup a fragment of the broken bottle, approaching Rosalie with wicked pleasure dancing in his dark eyes. It pleased him when she screamed. Her fear was arousing, a power trip._

_We all laughed as she begged, whined, pleaded with us. John was good at this game. He prolonged her suffering, making the experience more enjoyable. First he told her what he planned to do to her then he executed his plan with precision. She begged us to kill her; but he took his time, savoring every minute of exquisite fear, intoxicating power._

_**_

"That damned Georgian rat," I cursed as I remembered the bet that started it all.

_**_

_John insisted Rosalie Hale couldn't hold a candle to those Georgia peaches of his. Though I'd never seen his whores I prided myself on having an excellent eye for a fine piece of ass, and Rosalie was the best I'd ever seen. I planned on putting him in his place. We wagered a case of the finest scotch against my favorite car and driver._

_I remembered stumbling over to Rose, grabbing her by the arm and leading her to them so they could get a closer look. I felt smug, confident; in the certainty this lowlife Georgian John owed me a case of scotch. I could practically taste victory, though it could have been the copious quantities of scotch I already consumed on my breath._

_That pig merely looked her over and dismissed her obvious beauty, insisting he couldn't make a fair assessment of her while she was fully dressed. We all had a good laugh, John and his whores. Clearly he couldn't appreciate the finer subtleties of beauty._

_To assist in proving my point, I ripped Rosalie's jacket off. I had little patience for all of those brass buttons, they got in the way. I relished the feeling of power as I felt the garment yield under my hands. I felt strong, like I could lift a horse, wrestle a bear. _

_How could he concede, when her beautiful golden hair was mostly covered with a frilly hat? I went to remove the offending object and it tugged at her hair, causing her to scream out in pain. It was a sweet sound, those notes of pain and fear. They were the sounds of submission. I felt elation from the power I had over this woman. I was her superior._

_Clearly the group was impressed. If I couldn't impress them with her beauty at least we could all get a good laugh out of her fear and suffering._

_I pulled back, striking my hand across her face. They all laughed again. Who knew I was such an excellent comedian?_

_I grabbed her and pulled her to me pressing my mouth against hers. She shoved me with her hands stumbling back to the street twisting her ankle as she fell to the pavement. She yelped in pain and this only 'chummed the waters', feeding our frenzy. We were the ultimate predators; she was our prey. Suddenly our harmless bet gave way to more serious games._

"_Looks like she has a few issues with her balance," Donald chuckled. "I doubt she's a very good dancer." _

_She clambered onto her hands and knees trying to crawl away. I grabbed her leg and flung her around, slamming her into the street. I pinned her wrists and she writhed underneath me, struggling to break free of my iron grasp. I stared at the beautiful woman beneath me. Every thrashing movement of her soft warm body beneath mine thrilled me greater than the last. Her fear was intoxicating._

_I was in control. My head swam in the scent of roses that clung to her golden hair. I felt my body responding to the warmth of her body, responding to her whimpering, crying. I felt like a god. I had complete power over this woman. She was at my mercy, but I did not feel merciful. She wouldn't deny me again. I tore at her frilly garments, and the group pressed forward to get a better look._

_**_

For a moment, I smiled. I closed my eyes and recalled the smell of roses, the feeling of warmth, the feeling of Rosalie Hale.

Damn it all. If only I had a little more patience.

By this time we would be married, I would have been granted unlimited access to that sweet piece of flesh. I hated courtship--it was just an unnecessary postponement to my pleasure.

Maybe John was right about his Georgia peaches after all.

***

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which the story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**References: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse, 'The Criminal Sexual Sadist' by Robert R. Hazelwood, M.S.; Park Elliott Dietz, M.D.; and Jane Warren, D.S.W**

**Special thanks to WriterMom44 who provided special assistance with this chapter.**

_Note to readers: It is no easy task stepping into the mind of such a man. Many times I get sick to my stomach writing these chapters. Through these efforts, I hope to awaken a new appreciation of Rosalie Hale._


	5. Twisted

I was a shell of the man I once was. Five weeks of living in an ever increasing cloud of fear took its toll on me… and on my supply of scotch. I scratched at the beard which had grown in my neglect for personal hygiene during this last month. My room was dark save from a lamp by the bed. The window was drawn shut and boarded up. There was a guard posted outside my bedroom door.

My world was turned upside down. Three months ago I was on top of my game, on top of the world. I owned Rochester. Nothing stood in the way of what I wanted. I was a King not only in name, but in title. But now something owned me -- fear.

All I wanted was a good night's sleep. My body ached desperately for rest. My mind yearned for an escape. My head swam in a scotch induced stupor, but I couldn't sleep. I trembled in fear. Three of my closest acquaintances were dead. I couldn't shake the feeling I was next.

Four weeks ago George was found in his bed, dead, his neck snapped. Frank was found dead a week later and Donald, only two weeks ago, also dead. I shuddered. It was difficult to deny the pattern forming. Each of these men were present the fateful night of Rosalie Hale's death. Each of these men swore to me in confidence that Rosalie Hale's ghost came to visit them a week before their deaths.

At first I laughed off the reported sightings of Rosalie Hale certain Frank was playing one of his, less-than-funny, jokes on the lot of us. But when Frank turned up dead as well, I began to worry. Frank's body was twisted in an unnatural way each bone in his legs and arms shattered and twisted in unnatural positions, his larynx crushed. I had the unfortunate opportunity of witnessing the broken body of Frank when I awoke one morning to find his twisted body at the foot of my bed. I shivered with fear at the memory.

My head spun with the scotch, lack of sleep, and the pieces of this nightmarish puzzle. What troubled me most were the reports each man made of seeing Rosalie Hale's ghost only a week before they were killed. I didn't know who was doing this, but it wasn't funny.

I trembled as I remembered Rosalie Hale's ghost. I was beginning to believe in the supernatural. On occasion I consumed enough scotch to lull me into a dream state. When I slept I dreamt of Rosalie Hale's ghost watching me from my window with brilliant crimson eyes. On waking my nightmare did not end immediately. The image of Rosalie's ghost lingered and I would stare curiously at her pale skin glowing in the moonlight of my bedroom window. She would laugh with musical laughter, the sound of silver bells. I would rub my eyes and opening them again found her gone.

Even with Rosalie's ghost absent from my bedroom the nightmare continued, three dead, and I lived in constant fear.

After Donald's death I boarded up the windows, I felt safer without those crimson eyes piercing me. I felt childish posting a guard outside my door to ward off a ghost, but surely a ghost couldn't be responsible for these deaths.

Could Rosalie's ghost be responsible for these deaths? I never believed in ghosts until the others started seeing her too. Not only had they seen Rosalie's ghost but every one of my friends died one week from the day they laid eyes on her, all but me. Rosalie's ghost came to visit me frequently and I was still here… living in fear.

Was Rosalie Hale back from the dead to seek revenge? Was she killing us one by one? If her intention was to own me through my fear she succeeded. Rosalie Hale's ghost taunted me, laughing at my fear with her silvery laugh, crimson eyes sparkling with mirth.

Rosalie Hale's ghost left me presents, wicked, vile, detestable presents; the twisted bodies of Frank and Donald placed for me to find in my bedroom. Donald's body was covered in small round burn marks. The fingers of both hands broken, bruises covered his body. He was tortured before a blow to the head killed him. The small round burn marks scattered across Donald's twisted lifeless body looked like burns from a cigar.

I remembered the musky sweet smoke of a good Cuban cigar the night of Rosalie's death.

***

_We laughed, flushed from our games while Rosalie lay in the street whimpering__, humiliated_. _She was liberated from those pesky undergarments and lay exposed, shivering in the cold. She curled in on herself and lay on her side. She knew it was fruitless to attempt escape. _

_Donald lit up another cigar and taking a puff, he looked over to Rosalie contemplatively. _

"_She's cold, maybe someone should warm her up?" __Donald joked. _

"_Isn't that what I just finished doing?" I retorted, they all laughed._

_A wicked smile danced on Donald's lips as he walked over to Rosalie and stood over her shivering form appreciating her naked __body.__ I tugged on Frank's sleeve to call his attention to the scene. Donald stooped closer to Rosalie. _

"_Are you cold, dear?" Donald asked in a patronizing tone, a hint of humor in his voice. He stroked her golden hair._

_Rosalie spat in his face. Donald laughed as though he expected this reaction from her, and taking one last calm pull from his cigar breathed a cloud of smoke in her face. His mouth twisted in a mischievous grin and he placed the lit end of his cigar to her thigh. She screamed out in pain as the cigar burned her naked flesh. _

_**_

Suddenly there was a loud snapping sound and shattered fragments of wood flew from my window. I jumped at the noise. There stood Rosalie Hale's ghost, her skin pale as snow in the moonlight her crimson eyes burning into me. I was terrified, was tonight the night I would join my friends in their fate? Was Rosalie Hale's ghost here to kill me?

Only five weeks ago I served no master other than myself. Five weeks of fearful anticipation found me loosing control, I was now in the position of submission. I felt like a dog with his tail between his legs. Fear was my master and I was bent to its will.

I clutched the sheets tightly to my chest, eyes wide as saucers. Rosalie's ghost laughed her voice the ringing of silver bells. I recalled the disfigured bodies of Frank and Donald, tortured to death. Was this to be my fate? I trembled with fear. I pulled the covers over my head, desperate for what little protection they offered me.

Some minutes passed and nothing happened. Not another sound was made. Gradually I mustered the courage to peek one eye out from behind my cotton barrier and sighed in relief when I saw only the curtains flapping in the breeze. Death would not greet me tonight. I trembled realizing how inadequate my defences were.

I remembered Rosalie Hale begging for death, a death which came slowly to her. We enjoyed her suffering. Did Rosalie's ghost delight in my suffering as well? Did Rosalie Hale's ghost come to seek its revenge?

A trail of death lead to my door, the fear was sobering. I could not wash the blood from my hands. What did we bring on ourselves? What form of evil did we unleash?

I reached for the bottle of scotch on my nightstand but found it missing. Spotting it on a table across the room, I got out of bed and shuffled towards my beloved amber spirit eager for its numbing effects.

My feet caught on something heavy as I walked. I tripped and fell to the floor with a loud thud. As I lifted myself to my feet my eyes fell upon a horrible scene. I was face to face with John's lifeless visage.

"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!," I screamed.

I screamed until my throat was hoarse, I screamed until the blackness came.

John was dead. His twisted body, a gift from Rosalie's ghost, left for me on the floor of my bedroom.

I needed to fire my guard and hire someone more competent.

Four men dead, I was the only one left alive.

**

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**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which the story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**References: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

_Note: If you have any constructive criticism to provide it is welcome =). There are 2-3 parts of this chapter I feel could use some improvement but I didn't have anything better to use at this time. I do tend to edit and re-edit my work so if you find yourself re-reading this story at a later date it is possible some of the chapters may be revised._


	6. Crucible

Rosalie's POV

***

The agony of my transformation was my crucible. The searing pain in my body along with the betrayal in my heart burned away everything that once was good and decent within me. I shielded myself from the blistering hot fire with glorious rage. Thoughts of revenge were the only thing capable of carrying me through the unspeakable torture of the all-consuming flames.

Rage seethed within my chest. I clenched my jaw tightly, glaring murderously at his sleeping form. I could hear _his_ wet heartbeat. Venom filled my mouth, but what I thirsted for was not this man's blood. What I thirsted for was _his_ pain, _his_ fear… _my_ revenge.

As I sat in his window, watching him sleep, a cool breeze caught the strands of my golden hair waving them about my head like Medusa's snakes. I glared at him with my brilliant crimson eyes. _He_ owned this town, but soon enough I would own him.

Suddenly he sat up in bed and looked over towards the window. My muscles tensed. I didn't move an inch, though I longed to rip every limb from his body, laughing while he screamed in terror.

Hate burned inside of me as I looked upon his shadowed face. I loathed this despicable creature, this pathetic man. A look of surprise crossed his face; he was trembling. He closed his eyes and shook his head. By the time he opened his eyes again, I was gone.

I smirked, pleased with _my_ self-control. Revenge was a dish best served cold. I would witness the death of this man before long, but first I would own him through his fear. He would beg for his death, but it wouldn't come tonight.

I remembered the cold disregard in his eyes the night he left me at death's door. _He_ betrayed every promise _he_ made to me. I remembered the sharp pain in my ribs, glass carving trails in my delicate skin. I remembered the searing pain on my skin when they pressed lit cigars into my flesh.

I remembered the humiliation, the betrayal, the pain -- oh the pain! But the pain of my transformation was worse than every kind of hell _he_ put me through. The physical pain _he_ and _his friends_ inflicted on me that evening was nothing compared to the agony of transformation.

I remembered the searing hot agony burning my flesh, boiling my blood. I screamed out for someone… for anyone to kill me. It was too much to bear.

I dreamed of white, delicate petals flitting down… happiness swirled around me. But my happiness became engulfed in flames, turning into ashes and smoke. The flames clawed at my skin, I could feel my bones glowing from within, hot embers. All of my beautiful dreams were gone, burnt away by the fire. All that remained was hatred, anger. I held within me a desperate desire for one thing… revenge.

I remembered feeling the flesh pull away from my bones. My bones cracked in the heat, my marrow turned to steam and the steam burned me further still. There was a sharp ringing in my ears as I burned -- pain, anguish. I realized it was the sound of my voice -- screaming. It didn't feel better to scream; nothing brought relief from the fire, it only burned hotter.

I hated him for bringing these events to bear. At first I felt weak, pathetic, lost. I cried, begged, pleaded, for it to stop. Make it stop, Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!

No one would listen.

No one would come to save me.

The flames burned within my flesh, scorching my bones, and screaming brought no relief. I steeled myself against the fire, fighting back with flames of my own. My anger raged against the fire. My tempest burned, I fought fire with fire. I imagined turning the flames against him, burning his flesh. I laughed darkly as I imagined his features distorted with pain. I imagined the screams were _his_. I imagined him clutching at _his_ flesh, tearing at _his_ eyes, _begging __**me**__ to stop_.

I turned the fire within. I was no longer the victim; I turned the flames on Royce. I felt the flames lick my skin, burning me as I held the fire, but I could delight as _he_ _suffered with me_. The only thing that lessened my pain was the knowledge I could hurt _him_ as well.

As the burning of transformation left my limbs I could feel a different sort of fire burning in my chest, in my throat. The fire burning within me now was lust for _my _revenge, _my_ burning desire for justice.

The only salve that could soothe this burning desire was the death of _this low man_. Even the burning agony of my transformation paled when compared to the inferno raging within me now. From the burning flames I was born, a glorious phoenix: white hot, tempered with rage, anger.

Every fiber of my being burned with my need for revenge. Royce King the Second was a marked man.

**

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**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which the story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**References: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

A special thanks to liebs8181 for her help with this chapter


	7. Here Comes the Bride

**Rosalie's View**

The heavens roiled with the furies of an oncoming storm, and a flash of lightning in the distance illuminated the room. Even without the eerie glow, I could see every inch of the dark room perfectly. My golden hair whipped angrily about my head in the wild wind from his bedroom window behind me.

He wasn't here.

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, seeking the clues that would lead me to him. The stale smell of scotch and fear danced around me in the wind; his scent in the room subdued. He moved from this room shortly after our last visit, perhaps somewhere he felt safer? My mouth twisted into a large grin.

He must not enjoy our evening visits as much as I did.

I laughed heartily at the memory of Royce King clutching a sheet as his only protection against me; as if the thin material would keep me from enacting my well deserved revenge.

The rumble of thunder filled the room; I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror across the room. My lovely face scowled back at me. I was beautiful when I was angry… I was always beautiful.

My skin shone eerily white in the glow from the lightning.

I wore a wedding dress for the occasion; it was precisely the bridal gown worn by Helen Twelvetrees in the movie 'Disgraced'-- how fitting. I smirked wondering what Royce would think of his bride.

I admired the pretty dress in my reflection, fingering the soft white satin.

"Damned distractions!" I hissed.

I pound my iron hard fist on the floor, and frowned at the hole so easily created in its smooth wooden surface. I must remember to be careful, humans were fragile.

It was difficult to rein in my awesome strength. As with my visage, an enduring example of unparalleled beauty like a sculpture in marble commissioned by the hands of the great Michelangelo himself; my body too was smooth and hard as solid stone.

I was much too strong to play with my prey without exercising the most careful restraint. It would require great control to execute my perfect symphony of pain, without allowing him to perish before revenge was fully realized. Royce King would suffer for what he did to me.

Closing my eyes once more, I listened intently. It was not difficult to isolate the fluttering rhythm of Royce's nervous heartbeat from the basement. The monster within me clawed at my resolve, thirsting for his blood.

There existed no doubt, if blood were spilt I would be unable to control appetite. I refused to sully myself by taking any part of this detestable monster, Royce King, within me. I wanted him to pay for his crimes in a way that fading into unconsciousness from blood loss could not satisfy. I wanted to hear his screams; to burn him with the magnificent fire of my rage. I wanted to feel the crunch of his bones under my hands.

I needed my revenge… and I wanted him to suffer slowly.

I took a moment to admire myself once more in the mirror, a vision of magnificent beauty in the wedding dress stolen for the occasion. I would have made such a lovely bride. The anguish of my loss washed over me, and rage flared in response.

For five long months I longed for Royce's death, every fiber of my being screaming out for revenge. Righteous anger burned within my very core, I was consumed with thoughts of making him suffer until his dying breath. I could taste his fear… it was delicious.

I smiled wickedly as I walked calmly from the room to reunite myself with the man to whom I once pledged my heart; a heart now as cold and dead as Royce's four friends, who preceded him in his fate.

_"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned." – from "The Mourning Bride" by William Congreve_

:-:-:-:

Following the sound of _his_ heartbeat, I ghosted down the basement stairs.

The burning in my throat flared painfully with the addition of delicious scents, humans. It surprised me to notice two guards standing outside a steel door.

This new development mattered little to me; the beast I hunted was near I would not be stopped. I rushed the first guard swiftly breaking his neck. Planting my feet on the vault door, I flipped over the second guard landing silently behind him.

The second guard had only just managed to draw his weapon, but it was of no use to him. With a flick of my wrist the guard's body slumped to the floor beside the first. Not a single shot was fired. The loss of two innocent men's lives was unfortunate but it was too late for remorse. I was a woman on a mission, here to claim the price of Royce King's life.

Nothing would stand in my way.

A loud clap of thunder rumbled outside, and I listened as raindrops began assaulting the roof two floors above me.

_Come out Come out wherever you are! _I taunted silently.

The thrumming of the monster's heartbeat beckoned to me from behind thick steel.

I could imagine the crunch of his bones beneath my hands, venom pooled in my mouth. I was all too eager to begin the evening's events.

Tilting my head to one side, I analyzed the obstacle before me, unsure of my strength. I pressed my palms against the smooth steel door pushing inward; the metal groaning under the pressure. All fears of inadequacy were cast aside as the door yielded beneath my hands, landing with a crash inside the room.

A wide smile crossed my face; for within the steel room a wide eyed monster stood, mouth agape, assessing my renovation to his hideout. I was pleased to notice these past months were unkind to him. Royce was merely a shadow of the handsome man he once was; his pale blue eyes bloodshot, his hair matted and disheveled.

Fire burned in my throat, but revenge sang to me, easily overwhelming the lure of his delicious blood. Soon punishment would be mete. My eyes sparkled with mirth, a cat stalking its prey. _Little birdie, our games have only just begun_, I smiled widely.

The delightful music of Royce's scream filled the air echoing in the hallway. I laughed, joy unbound, knowing I owned this despicable beast through his fear.

_There was a time when our roles were reversed, he laughing at my fear and suffering. That cold night when I lay naked in the street, I was subjected to numerous tortures at the hands of Royce and his friends. On that fateful evening I screamed, begging, pleading with my fiancé… my pleas falling on deaf ears. Only when I was injured so badly as to be unable to move or speak did they leave, believing me dead, their games forfeit._

Muscles coiled, and my body trembled with the effort of restraining myself. I longed desperately to rip him limb from limb but it was crucial that I prolong his suffering. Pressing my eyes closed tightly, I calmed myself.

A wicked smile danced on my lips as I stepped through the doorway into the bright light ahead.

_Here comes the bride._

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**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

_**Note to the reader**__**: Thank you to everyone who's taken the time to read Rosalie's story, and a special thanks to those who have helped review and improve my chapters.**_

_**Please feel free to subscribe to this story, and you will receive updates as new chapters are posted. **_


	8. Wicked

**Royce's View**

I was the only one left alive. I cowered in the basement; locked tightly inside the family vault, now serving as my sanctuary.

I knew she was coming for me.

I startled at every creak, every sound; quivering like a leaf in the wind.

Fear owned me.

One week passed since Rosalie last gazed upon me with those burning crimson eyes. If the pattern held, tonight would be the night she would come for me.

And I knew she was coming for me.

Rosalie's wicked laughter roared in my head.

I took a long swig from my beloved bottle of scotch and clutched it to my chest as if it were a talisman to ward off evil. I feared even the scotch couldn't save me now. I curled into a tight ball on the cold floor of my prison.

I shuddered remembering the twisted bodies of Donald, Frank, and John; presents in my bedroom from Rosalie's ghost -- the carcasses of birds left by a house cat, bored with its prey and ready for the next kill. The trail of death led right to my door. I would be the next to die. I felt it with every fiber of my being.

Five months living in crippling fear turned my world upside down. My body ached from the lack of sleep, my head pounded and Rosalie's wicked laughter grew louder still.

I felt more mouse than man; trembling as I anticipated the pain I knew would come.

Rosalie was coming to kill me.

A chill ran through my bones and my skin flushed with goose-bumps.

Rosalie's wicked laughter again, pounding, pounding…

I used my trembling fingers to wipe the sweat from my eyes.

Locked away in the basement, behind walls built of steel there were no windows here. The only way into this room was a thick steel door, retrofitted so it could only be opened from the inside. There were two armed men posted outside my fortress.

The family vault once housed an assortment of gold, silver, and myriad other riches; now I was the only treasure secured within. Still, I didn't feel safe.

Despite my efforts to protect myself from this evil being, I could still hear her wicked laughter beating louder within my head -- haunting me – pounding, pounding. This mysterious creature… this divisive, unnatural being owned me through my fear. I felt as vulnerable as a mouse hiding from the cat.

There was a shuffling sound outside the steel vault door, perhaps the guard. I clutched at my hair and shrieked at the benign sound. My chest ached as though my heart would jump out of it. I could feel my heart beat falter; skipping a beat, speeding up, and skipping again. More wicked laughter pounded in my skull. I tried covering my ears but the laughter boomed louder still within my head.

My hands trembled as I took another long gulp from the bottle of strong amber liquid; and pulled it back close to my heart.

I stared blankly into the bright lights of my family's basement vault -- my new home.

Though it only made my headaches worse, I insisted on keeping the lights blazing in my shelter day and night. I was afraid of darkness; for the evening bore the wicked fruits of Rosalie's games -- the uncomfortable stare of her fiery eyes, her disturbing laughter, and her sordid twisted presents.

I could hear the sound of her wicked laughter all around me. Her hideous menacing laughter was with me everywhere, mocking me.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted to no-one, my voice echoing in the confines of my brilliantly illuminated cell. I startled at the sound of my own voice. Silver laughter pounded in my head in response, wearing away at my fragile sanity. There was no escape, I didn't want to die but how could I expect mercy from someone I failed to grant the same?

I closed my eyes tightly and wished this all away. I shook my head and clutched at my hair. What have I done? What have I brought upon myself?

I gasped for air… my lungs were heavy, the thought of my impending doom crushing the air from me. I pressed my rough hands to my face rubbing my temples. _Think Royce! Dammit think! Don't give up!_

It was hopeless, I was a man marked for death. She was coming for me… chills ran from my fingers all the way up my spine.

I heard more scuffling outside the vault. I leapt to my feet ready to flee for surely this was a fight I could not win.

"Hello?" I asked, hoping my imagination was getting the better of me.

I received no response. I took a step backwards.

There were two thuds outside the door.

"Hello?" I repeated eager for reassurance.

The only response to my inquiry was a creaking noise, the sound of steel heaving under great pressure, followed by a loud pop as the steel vault door flew from its hinges landing with a loud crash at my feet.

As I stared in awe at the gaping hole before me, I began to rethink that last drink of scotch; was it too much to hope I was hallucinating?

The flash of lightning from the stairwell above illuminated the hallway before me. Two dark figures lay crumpled on the floor, my guards.

Fear twisted around me like the deadly embrace of a snake, its iron grip crushing me.

"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed!

A symphony of silver rang out from the now dark hallway; joining the pounding laughter in my head. I recognized the menacing laughter of Rosalie Hale's ghost. Fear clawed within me, my sanity tethered by a frayed thread.

"Honey, I'm home!" Her voice was the sound of silver bells. I took a step back from the doorway.

Shivers trembled from my head to my toes as I watched the pale figure of Rosalie Hale clad in white satin, step from the darkness of the hallway into the brilliant light of my family vault. She approached me slowly, a cat on the prowl, her red eyes glowing with fire. The pristine dress flowed smoothly over her slender body with every step she took.

She should be dead, how could she be standing in front of me now? Her perfectly smooth skin belied the horrors she received at our hands that fateful night. How could her flesh not bear the marks of the tortures she endured? I nearly expected her vision to dissipate in the bright light of my cell, but her skin glowed faintly in the brilliant lights. She pressed forward inching slowly in my direction.

Even now, when I expected her dead, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, or even imagined. She looked like one of God's seraphim, but the wicked grin on her face suggested she might be more devil than angel. Even her staggering beauty could not subdue the fear clawing within me like a wild animal.

With every step she took towards me, I shrank backwards distancing myself from my nightmare. I shuddered when I felt the cool wall press against my back. My heart sank as I realized my retreat was at its end.

Rosalie Hale placed one hand on the wall beside my head. I was nearly delirious from fear. Was I seeing things? The ice water in my veins seemed to suggest otherwise.

I closed my eyes, praying for this strange vision to disappear; but I could still feel her cold breath on my face.

"What? No kiss hello?" She asked, pleasantly amused.

My eyes snapped open and I stared into those flaming crimson eyes in disbelief. The corner of her mouth turned up into a playful grin. My head spun, fear overwhelmed me I could no longer contain it.

"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed.

She laughed that damnable—vile-- wicked laugh in response.

She stood before me, a demon sent from the fiery depths of hell to claim my soul for the wicked deeds I had done. An act of resignation, I slid to the floor, raising my arms to cover my face. I considered begging for mercy, but knew my pleas would fall on deaf ears. I had not granted Rosalie such mercy; there was no hope she would pay such kindness to me.

I prayed that it would all be over soon. From the look of that wicked grin on her face, however, it was clear I would not be so fortunate.

"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed, and the horrors began.

:-:-:-:-:-:

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**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

******

_**For: EdwardSoul,**_

_**Your story LOST inspired me to write FanFic. You are the reason Rosalie's Story exists. I am absolutely thrilled to have your feedback on these next few chapters during the writing process. You've been a tremendous help. The first part of this chapter in particular owes a lot of its character to your recommendations. **_

_**For: Liebs8181,**_

_**My grammar goddess, you always keep me in check. You are helping me to better myself as a writer and I greatly appreciate your time and effort. You helped me to realize that part of the problem with Ch7 of Rosalie's story was that I actually wrote 3 chapters and was trying to fit it all into one! You encouraged me to let loose and these coming chapters wouldn't be the same without your encouragement. **_

_**Thank you both. **_

_**To my readers (as few or as many as you may be):  
Thank you for reading my stories. Please subscribe to the story to receive updates when new chapters are posted. I will be continuing the story to include Rosalie and Emmett's meeting. **_


	9. Mercy

**Rosalie's View**

I loathed this despicable man with every ounce of my being. As I stared in his face, a mask of pain, I remembered the promises of forever he made me. He stole every dream from me and left me for dead, when all I wanted was to love him. More monster than man; he earned the worst tortures I could imagine.

He would burn in my fury. His life would be extinguished by my hands; he would suffer greatly for his crimes.

With every scream, with every snap of Royce's bones under my careful hands, I restored a little piece of myself. But as I tortured him, I couldn't help but feel something was missing within me. As I put myself together, piece by piece I realized I was empty inside. My dreams of revenge were being realized, but what was I fighting for?

Even now Royce writhed in pain under my sure hands; inside I only felt hollow. His howls of agony continued to ring in the back of my mind.

With a press of my hand I cracked another rib, coaxing another shriek from this battered man. I pulled him deeper into the suffering burning around me, flames of a fire he'd lit when he betrayed me. Though I enjoyed his pain, I didn't appreciate his misery as much as expected.

I was determined to repay the terrible things he did to me, and make myself whole again. He should feel true fire burning his flesh as it had once burned me. He should feel the flames cracking against his skin, as they flared even now within my throat. The delightful crunch of his bones wasn't enough to earn my happiness; I wanted him to suffer the fire with me.

I struck a match on the floor, and held the flame to the bedding in the corner of the room near where he lay battered, in pain. I stared absently into the orange glow of the flames. The light danced across his face as the flames licked closer and closer. He screamed as he watched the fire approach, but he was too broken to save himself.

The satisfaction I gained through his suffering was only superficial. Revenge was all I could think about for five months. But no matter what happened here tonight, I would live forever with my every dream crumbling around me. What good was all of this to me, when I would always be broken inside? Revenge alone didn't seem enough to make me whole again.

Tears streamed down his face, but he never spoke a word in his defense, never begged for mercy. Though his pale blue eyes pleaded with me, I read his resignation beneath the fear and suffering in his face. The flames licked at his arm, slowly inching their way closer. The dancing flames reflected in his fearful eyes as he burned.

He deserved every suffering I endured at his hands and more. He was a monster, I wanted him dead. But even watching him writhe in agony as the flames danced along his flesh I was unsatisfied.

Perhaps if he begged for his life, it would have only fueled my lust for revenge. But seeing him broken and resigned to his fate made me remember another night where I lay broken in the street waiting for death to greet me.

In the end, I granted him the mercy he never offered me, breaking his neck and ending his life, his suffering.

I stepped back and watched as the flames engulfed his lifeless body. Hastily, I made my way out of the basement, setting the extravagant draperies down the hallway ablaze as I went.

Leaving my dreams behind me, I turned once more and watched as his place burned to the ground.

His pain had come to an end, though I would continue to suffer through all of eternity.

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**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

_The whole time I've been writing this chapter, Coldplay's song "A Rush of Blood To the Head" has been running through my head. The music is haunting and beautiful. I just feel it's significant, to me it says revenge, but it also says something more about revenge, ready to fight, but needing direction. Though the song seems to indicate wanting to please someone else, I feel here Rosalie is pleasing herself._

_You said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down  
I'm gonna put it six feet underground  
I'm gonna buy this place and watch it fall  
Stand here beside me baby in the crumbling walls  
Oh I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire  
Stand here until I fill all your hearts desire  
Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn  
And do back the things it did to you in return_

Huuuhhhh _[x4]___

You said I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war  
If you can tell me something worth fighting for  
Oh and I'm gonna buy this place is what I said  
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head

Honey, all the movements you're starting to make  
See me crumble and fall on my face  
And I know the mistakes that I've made  
See it all disappear without a trace  
And they call as they beckon you on  
They say start as you need to go on  
Start as you need to go on

Said I'm gonna buy this place and see it go  
Stand here beside me baby, watch the orange glow  
Some'll laugh and some just sit and cry  
You just sit down there and you wonder why

So I'm gonna buy a gun and start a war  
If you can tell me something worth fighting for  
I'm gonna buy this place is what I said  
Blame it upon a rush of blood to the head  
Oh to the head

Honey, all the movements you're starting to make  
See me crumble and fall on my face  
And I know the mistakes that I've made  
See it all disappear without a trace  
And they call as they beckon you on  
They say start as you need to go on  
As you need to go on  
As you need to go on

So meet me by the bridge  
Meet me by the lane  
When am I gonna see that pretty face again  
Oh meet me on the road  
Meet me where I said  
Blame it all upon a rush of blood to the head


	10. Hope

Rosalie's POV

I came to the woods to hunt, but instead sat along the bank of a mountain stream, staring at my reflection, hating what I had become. The image reflected in the rippling pool was of unparalleled beauty. I was fifty times lovelier now than when human, but now only saw my beauty as a curse.

With a quick swipe of my pale hand I splashed the water, disturbing my reflection.

I despised my beauty. It was to blame for everything that had gone wrong in my life. If I were normal - not unattractive, but less beautiful - perhaps someone would have looked beyond what existed on the surface… and truly fallen in love with me. I wished for Vera's life: a husband who loved me, and beautiful children like her son, Henry.

What now? What was left without my hope for love and children?

Life was now empty and meaningless.

From the moment Royce left me for dead… my every breath, my every thought was focused on revenge. It was my solitary reason for being. My sole existence was consumed by my need to avenge my own murder. Now that Royce's blood was cold, there was nothing left for me in this world.

I felt empty, hollow. With my thirst for revenge quenched, so too was my purpose in life – if this truly was a life – extinguished.

Eternally beautiful… eternally alone… wounded beyond repair.

All I ever wanted was to be loved and wanted, to have beautiful children, and grow old with the man I loved. Was this too much to ask? But now life was over, every dream vanished. I would never gaze into a pair of wrinkled eyes and remark at the lifetime of happiness reflected therein.

What now? What did this immortal world hold for me? My new existent felt bleak, empty, devoid of hope. What was my beauty worth without love?

I wished for a way to be human again. To exist for eternity alone and childless, my womb forever barren, was too much to bear. I sobbed, but no tears filled my changed eyes.

I remembered chubby little Henry, balancing perfectly on my knee, smiling a huge grin with only two, tiny pearl white teeth.

The anguish of knowing I would never be a mother washed over me. I drown in my sorrow.

Esme tried her best to comfort me. She alone could identify with the pain and loss of a woman facing a childless existence. But Esme found happiness with Carlisle, a husband who loved her to the ends of the earth, who doted on her, and bore the spark of his endless affection for her in his eyes.

There was no one to love me as Carlisle loved Esme. Edward, though alone, had music to occupy his mind. All I could think about was the life I lost.

Without warning, a series of loud huffs and snorts interrupted my self-pity. I was irritated by this intrusion to my thoughts; and raised my head to glare menacingly at the source of the disturbance.

In the distance, I noticed a large black bear pacing back and forth, circling a dark-haired man fumbling with a rifle. The bear raised itself onto its hind legs, grunted, then dropped to all fours and charged the man. Startled, he dropped his rifle and ran.

The human didn't stand a chance. The 350-pound bear quickly closed the gap between them, knocking the dark-haired man to the ground. Pinned under the oppressive weight of the bear, the man raised his hands to block his face from attack. I could hear the sickening crunch as the bear tore into the man's hands with its sharp teeth.

Suddenly my eyes grew dark and my body tensed. Venom swelled in my mouth and I was overcome by bloodlust. Fire burned in my throat, the sweet smell of human blood sang to me, begging me to quench my thirst.

Overcome by instinct, I sprinted headlong towards the intoxicating smell. It took everything within me to stop myself fifty yards from the scene, where I stood and stared in shock as war waged within me.

I fought with all my strength to keep myself from approaching the man. I held my breath; but the smell of human blood, lingering in my memory, beckoned to me.

I balanced on the precipice as I watched the grim scene play out before me. The sharp claws and unforgiving teeth of the hungry animal tore at the hunter, shredding his flesh. I was eager to relish the taste of human blood flowing from his ragged wounds, but clung stubbornly to my resolve.

I watched, captivated, as the stranger writhed in pain. I remembered clearly the night I, too, lay bleeding, helpless, dying. I watched this stranger curiously, as the bear tore at his face, saturating his dark curly hair with blood.

With the dimples marking the pain in his stricken face, this unfortunate stranger appeared so pure, innocent as a child. Suddenly, something clicked deep within me. This man reminded me of Vera's little Henry!

Instantly, I was filled with an overwhelming regret, an intense longing for this stranger's life. I didn't want him to die, so much I would risk everything to keep him safe.

I flung myself at the bear, a hiss escaping my lips as I threw my body against its hulking mass, knocking him to the ground. The two of us - black fur contrasted against pale white skin - tumbled and rolled across the rocky terrain. We slammed into a tree, which shuddered and fell to the forest floor with a loud crash. The bear's claws raked feebly across my diamond-hard skin, shredding my clothing but leaving my flesh undamaged.

I furiously pound my stone fists into the creature, pummelling it until it no longer moved. Suddenly, I remembered the damaged stranger nearby, still badly in need of my assistance. I gasped, throwing the bear effortlessly aside, running to the dark haired man's side. Placing my hand on his face, I cradled his bloodied cheek, staring into his hazel eyes.

Blood streamed down his face. I could feel the warmth like a hot flame on my hand. I remained captivated by his gaze. All of the protective and nurturing feelings I held for precious little Henry resurfaced as I gazed into his trusting eyes.

His face was twisted in pain, each breath more laboured than the last. Assessing the extent of this precious stranger's injuries, I could think of only one way to save his life. I couldn't bear the thought of him dying. I felt as though my entire world was inextricably entwined with his fate.

I knew I didn't have the strength to press my lips against his warm neck, without killing him. I couldn't do this alone. As much as I hated this immortal existence, I would ask Carlisle to change this human to save him. I would beg if needed. I would not allow this man to die.

I scooped the bleeding stranger gingerly in my arms, and headed for home.

Running through the forest, I held the bloody stranger close to my chest. The warm red liquid pulsed from his wounds, bathing me. Though I hadn't taken a solitary breath since the handsome stranger shed his first drop of blood, I still struggled to tame the beast within me. The animal within wanted nothing more than to drain this man, of every last drop of the ruby warmth oozing from him.

Cradling the very image of Vera's little Henry in my arms, each second his blood tempting me greater than the last, I felt more monster than ever before.

Though they fluttered with the effort, his hazel eyes remained locked on mine. I was certain he must feel weak from the loss of blood, yet his gaze never left mine. I drew my strength and reserve from the absolute trust I read in this stranger's hazel eyes.

I couldn't shake the feeling my happiness rested with this wounded human's well being. Wrapped in my arms, the dying stranger looked up at me with his trusting hazel eyes and sighed in relief. He muttered a solitary word, "angel" and slipped into unconsciousness.

A tiny spark lit the dark emptiness within me, warming my cold, dead heart. I pressed on, carrying a fledgling ember of hope within my arms.

**

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

_******_

_Thank you to Liebs8181 for taking a virtual red marker to my work. _

_Each chapter is significantly improved following your input. =) _

_Readers: _

_It will take some time, but there will be additional chapters coming!_


	11. Damned

Rosalie's POV

**

Screams of great suffering shook the walls of our home. I clung to my ray of hope, holding his hand tightly in mine.

Witnessing his body twisting in the pain of transformation was like watching Vera's Henry burn in the fires of hell. I hated myself for being so weak… wanting this man to live for my own selfishness. Unconscious when I burst through the door, the stranger had no say in the matter as I offered his bloodied body to Carlisle. My decision sealed his fate.

I entwined my fingers with his, smoothing his dark hair with my free hand. Would he ever forgive me for making him a monster? Could he forgive me for forcing on him the fate I so detested?

Unsatisfied with the progress of the stranger's condition, Carlisle paced the length of the room. "The morphine isn't helping; it didn't have enough time to take effect. The venom moved too quickly, sealing the passageways in his bloodstream," he noted sullenly, his head bowed in defeat. Esme took a step towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist, holding him closely, offering her support.

I placed a hand on the stranger's cheek, tracing the dimples in his pain stricken face with my thumb.

Carlisle was right to challenge my impulse to change this man. None of us loved this immortal existence. Speaking for myself I would give anything to be human again. But noting the desperation in my eyes, my vampire father granted my request to save this man, hoping to right the damage done when he turned me only two years past.

It pained Carlisle to see the man writhing in agony now.

To be certain, Edward was not pleased with our decision to change the dark-haired stranger. He was convinced we were damning another soul for all eternity. Indignant, I quickly denied my brother's accusations. However, I could never hide my feelings from Edward who, reading my every thought, knew me as well as I knew myself. Deep inside, I loathed myself, fearing he was correct in his assessment.

In my selfishness had I chosen to damn this man's soul?

In making this choice I considered only my loneliness and compelling feelings to protect the stranger, but what fate would he have chosen for himself? Would he rather die than live as we did?

Could this stranger forgive me for damning him for all eternity?

Reaching into a bucket I pulled out a damp cloth soaked in vinegar water and wiped dried blood from the man's unclothed form. Under the gore, his skin was smooth showing no hint of the grievous wounds only recently marking his flesh.

The soft whisper of Carlisle and Esme's feet pacing across the floor of our woodland home kept time with the frantic beating of the man's heart.

The dark-haired stranger writhed in the pain of a fire I could not see, but could remember well. I recalled the flames licking my body from within, feeling the flesh pull from bone, crackling in the heat of transformation. I hated myself for putting this precious individual through such agony.

Yet, this was the only way. The only way to save his life. For reasons still not known to me, I was compelled from deep within my soul, to protect this man. My feelings for Vera's little Henry endeared this stranger to me. I knew I must save him at all costs, but who would pay the price for my decision?

Would he ever forgive me for putting him through such pain?

The minutes dragged by slowly. Each tick of the minute hand on the clock marked an eon of painful waiting.

Tick—Tick—Tick

I never left his side. As he suffered the terrible fires of transformation, I suffered a burning fear all my own.

He would hate me for damning him to an existence he would loathe for all eternity.

**

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

******

**A huge thanks to Liebs! I learn so much from you with every chapter! You'll make a true writer of me yet!**

_**If you enjoy this story, subscribing will assure that you are informed of updates as future chapters are posted online.**_


	12. Something More than Human

Emmett's POV

The only pain left was a vicious burning in my throat. I opened my eyes, surprised to see a pair of the most beautiful honey eyes staring down anxiously at me. _Hello, gorgeous._

I wanted to get lost in those eyes but the damned burning in my throat crowded my senses. I craved something, needed something, even more than those beautiful eyes. I didn't understand it all. Where was I? Who was she? What happened to me?

Something wasn't right-- everything felt different.

"Am I in hell?" I asked.

_What the--? What happened to my voice? _Iknew I had spoken, but it didn't sound like me at all.

Those honey eyes looked back at me but they seemed sad now-- very sad. She was so beautiful, much more beautiful than all those pin-ups the guys had. She was down right captivating. If I wasn't in hell, then maybe this was heaven. She sure looked like an angel to me.

She let go of my hand and looked away. In a blink she rose to her feet and left the room.

_What'd I say? Don't leave me!_

"Angel! Don't go!" I cried.

I was surprised by how fast I leapt to my feet. No sooner had I moved, than someone blocked my path.

_Watch it, __buddy__._ I snarled at the wiry little guy standing in front of me.

"Don't mind Rosalie, she's a little temperamental, it would be best if you let her leave." The wiry red-headed guy said firmly.

_Rosalie. The blonde angel who saved me… her name is Rosalie. _

_Well, then, who's this __hotshot__? Another angel? Her boyfriend?_

I craned my neck to look for his wings. I didn't see anything special about him.

_Hmm he's a decent looking guy, but not very big._

_I think I can take him. _

_  
_The red-headed youth snickered; I didn't see what was so funny. He crossed his arms across his chest."Edward is the name."

_God my throat! The burning is driving me __bats__._

Standing to my right was a blond haired man. "And I'm Carlisle," he said, a petite brunette wrapped in one arm. "This is my wife, Esme."

The brunette flashed a polite smile at me and put out her hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance--"

_My name, she wants my name._ "Emmett, Emmett McCarty." I shook her hand.

_Burning! My throat is burning!_ None of this made sense. I remembered the pain, lots of pain, and burning. There was a bear and the angel – Rosalie-- and this blond haired guy Carlisle I thought was God._ Did they save me? Did the bear__ scrag__ me? Was I dead?_

_I wanted answers, but I needed more than answers. I craved something… what was it? I tried to make sense of it all, but the burning was too distracting._

Edward frowned at me. "You are not dead, nor are you in hell. As with the remainder of us here, you are now something more than human. You are a vampire."

_A what?_ "Uh, what's a vampire?" I asked.

"The burning you feel in your throat is a thirst for blood. Unlike others of our kind we exist only on the blood of animals, rather than of humans." Carlisle explained.

_Drink blood? __Malarky!_

What he said shouldn't make sense; but the burning, nagging feeling in my throat dared me to believe him.

_Put out the fire! Put out the fire!_ I raised a hand to my throat. "It burns like hell. How do I make it stop?"

"It is quite simple; we should take you hunting immediately." Carlisle offered leading the way into the woods.

**

I asked him again. "So, you're sure I'm not dead, right?"

"Not technically. No." Edward said pointing me to the east.

_Not technically sure or not technically dead? _I wondered.

"Do you smell that? Dinner is served." Edward grimaced.

"Ungh! That doesn't smell very good." I complained wrinkling my nose at the scent.

"White Tailed Deer, I've had better." Edward smiled darkly, "But you'll grow accustomed to it".

Desperate to ease the pain in my throat, I gave in to my instinct; the deer never stood a chance. Hunting was a piece of cake. I was very fast and really strong. No beast was a match for me; I even managed to take down a few trees in the process.

I had my share of deer but found I liked the taste of bear a lot better; and it felt good to take those bears down a notch.

We hunted for hours, the sun was setting, but I wasn't tired. I flung a 400 pound black bear to the ground, my third, and let him take a few swipes at me.

"Come on! Is that the best you can do?" I held one arm behind my back to give the bear a fighting chance. Even with the handicap the bear was no match for me. _And the score is Bears-1, Emmett-3. I like these odds._ I grinned and sunk my teeth in the bear's neck.

_That one was pretty big, I wonder if I could take down an elephant?_

Still hunched over my latest kill, I felt someone staring at me. The hairs on my neck stood on end. _Angel-- Rosalie. _I turned to take a good look at the woman who saved my life.

It was the first time I laid eyes on Rosalie since she stormed from the room. I stared at the blonde bombshell for a long moment; admiring the beautiful golden hair that fell down to her waist. I then took my time appreciating her tiny waist and all the curves of her perfect body. _Damn she's one __minxy__ lady._

As I admired her, I noted a quick flicker of warmth in her eyes, and then it was gone_._

The bear slipped from my hands and fell to the ground. I stood upright and approached the stunning woman.

"Rosalie." My voice sang when I spoke her name.

_Be smooth, a woman loves a man who can provide for her._

"Could I offer you something to eat, a bear or deer maybe? Anything you like."

She looked me over from head to toe. _Like what you see honey?_

I raised an eyebrow.

"You look a fright." She responded sternly.

_Huh?_ I looked down at my raunchy clothes, my shredded and bloodied shirt. I tried combing my hair with both hands and found it matted with mud, sticks, and. _Crap! What a way to impress a lady, Emmett!_

I grinned sheepishly. "We haven't been properly introduced," I said wiping a dirty hand on my trousers and extending it to her. "My name is Emmett McCarty".

She looked at my hand and turned her perfect nose in the air. "I'm sure the formalities can wait until you've had ample opportunity for grooming." She quipped.

_Fair enough, wonder if she'd be in the mood to join me for a swim? I bet she looks killer when she's wet._ I pictured her hair slicked back with beads of water on her lips. _Damn, snap out of it, Emmett._ I grinned from ear to ear.

"I know of a mountain pond not far from here if you'd like to tag along?" I offered, winking in her direction.

Her perfect lips turned into a frown.

She opened her mouth to respond, when Edward interrupted us.

"Carlisle and I have engagement to attend to in town. Rosalie I trust you can look after Emmett?" The corner of his lip twitched upward in a half smile. He didn't really give her a say in the matter.

**

"It's not much further." She wasn't much for small talk so I held a conversation on my own.

"My brothers took me out looking for honey one day and I stuck my hand in a hornet's nest by mistake." I laughed remembering the look on my brothers' faces.

"Those suckers chased me for nearly a mile before I came across this pond and jumped in to escape." She hadn't spoken a word. I continued …

"Boy when they say mad as hornets they do it with good reason." I chuckled.

"My hand was swollen as a balloon for days!" I turned to look at Rosalie, who seemed more interested in playing with the ends of her hair than in my conversation.

_Her loss, the story was a __riot__. Maybe she'd like the one about the cops and the moonshine better? _I chuckled again.

I ducked between two boulders, and pushed back the low branches of a tree, revealing the moonlit pond. The rush of a small waterfall fed the deep mountain pool, jagged rock faces surrounded the north and east sides. A small creek overflowed from the south of the pond, winding away through the forest to the west.

"Ladies first," I offered extending my hand towards the water.

"No thank you." Rosalie said directing her gaze to a large rock near the water's edge. "I'll wait right over here." Sitting on the rock, she curled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. _What great__ gams_!

"Suit yourself" I said slipping off my torn shirt, and walked into the water with my trousers still on. Now up to my broad chest in water, I used my fingers to loosen clumps of mud and animal blood; and set to work untangling sticks and leaves from my wet hair.

_I wonder how I can get her to talk to me. Maybe she's still mad at me._

"I'm sorry about what I said before." I offered as I pulled a twig from my hair and cast it aside. "I didn't mean to upset you; it's not that I'm not grateful. I just didn't understand."

I stared at her for a while, watching her trace the crags of the rock with her fingers. If she heard me, she didn't show it. _Was she ignoring me? Was she still mad about the hell comment?_

"I like being a vampire!" I blurted out, looking to make things right.

She tensed sitting upright, shifting her gaze from the rock to my face.

"What?" Her voice sounded like music. Her eyes searched mine for answers.

"Why?" She asked. There was a hint of disgust in her beautiful voice.

"You're a vampire, how bad can it be?" I defended.

Suddenly her eyes went cold and she turned her gaze back to the rock.

_Look at me! Don't shut me out--talk to me._

I made my way through the water to stand beneath the rock she sat on. The water came over my shoulders. I took her hand in mine, interrupting the circuit she was tracing on the jagged rock. _Her hand is so smooth._

Her gaze rose to meet mine. Moonlight reflected off the rippling surface of the water and sparkled like stars in her deep honey eyes. _How could I let her know how much she meant to me?_

"Rosalie." I spoke her name slowly, it sounded like music. "You saved my life".

She let out a loud sigh, and freed her hand from mine. She hesitated a moment, then tucked the golden strands of her hair behind one ear and averted her gaze.

Her finger assaulted the rock again, tracing patterns across the rough surface. Her plump bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"What's wrong?" I asked tenderly. _Say what's on your mind Rosalie, how else can I make it better?_

She hesitated, and then met my gaze again.

"Aren't you, worried about your immortal soul?" She asked me very seriously.

I chuckled lightly, "How could a man fear hell with a beautiful angel by his side?" I asked touching the tip of her nose with the end of my finger.

She stood up and turned to leave. _What now?_

"Please?" I begged my voice soft and low. "Don't leave."

She stopped and whirled around to look at me for a long moment. Her gaze, stern at first, softened after a while.

"You missed one" she pointed to my head.

"What?" I asked, patting the damp curly mess atop my head.

"Here, let me help." She bent to pull several small sticks from my wet hair.

The faintest smile swept across her lips.

_What beautiful lips! _I wanted to feel those ginchy lips against mine.

She was leaning over the edge of the water. I wrapped my hand gently around her smooth wrist. I stared deeply into her eyes and she into mine. _Her eyes…are so beautiful._

Giving a gentle tug, I meant to pull her closer to me. Apparently I underestimated my new strength and she went flying into the water landing with a loud splash behind me. When she rose to the surface her golden hair hung limp in her eyes. She wore the most hilarious scowl on her beautiful mouth.

'BWAHA HAHA!" I bellowed at the sight of her. She had the appearance of a half-drown cat.

My laughter shook the trees. I could feel it trembling through the water all around us.

"You think that's funny, do you?" She taunted raising one eyebrow in my direction.

Without warning she swiped her hand across the pond's surface, splashing me with water.

My dark hair hung in my eyes. A wide grin crossed my face, and I playfully grabbed her by the waist and pulled her under-water.

When we broke the surface, she was still wrapped in one of my arms and we were both laughing hysterically.

In my wildest dreams I couldn't imagine anyone more special… her laughter was beautiful music. _She's so sexy._ _I could hold her like this all night long._

I brushed the wet hair from her eyes. The feel of her smooth skin sent a wave of heat through my body. Her eyes sparked with the same light of desire I felt inside myself.

_She is too beautiful for words_. I cupped her perfect cheek in one hand and drew her body closer with the arm still wrapped around her waist. My nostrils filled with the smell of her, like strawberries and honeysuckle on a warm afternoon. _God she smelled good. _

Her fingers slid through my wet hair sending a thrill down my spine. As I moved my mouth nearer I could feel the whisper of air as her lips parted… accepting… welcoming. I closed my eyes and leaned in for the kiss.

Unexpectedly she tensed-- froze. She didn't meet my kiss; instead she ducked down and out of my arms. Before I knew it she was standing on the rock; the water rolling off her forming little pools of water at her feet, reflecting the moonlight.

_Shoot!__ The woman is __certifiable__._

For a short while she opened herself to me, let me get close. But the tender side of her was now tucked behind the cold hard exterior as usual. I didn't understand her.

She wanted me-- like I wanted her… I could feel it. _What's holding her back? Is it that Edward guy?_

"We should be getting back." She urged.

I grabbed my torn shirt from the water's edge and threw it over my shoulder.

Where she went I would follow. And Oh! -- To watch her leave – it was a nice view.

*******************************

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

******

**Special thanks to Edwardsoul – **

**Dang you flip me out, you're so awesome. You really helped me heaps with Emmett's voice. I used A LOT of your material getting this first part right and took great inspiration from your suggestions. **

**Some of my favorite lines in this chapter are exactly as you suggested, they were simply too good to alter. You actually rhymed, I loved the cadence, I had to keep it. "****Where was I, who was she? What happened to me?" [...]**** "****She sure looked like an angel to me." You rock Edwardsoul - I think I'm going to marry those lines and have babies with them they're just that perfect.**

_**Readers - If you enjoy this story, subscribing will assure that you are informed of updates as future chapters are posted online.**_

**  
Your 1930s slang glossary for this chapter

Bent – upset, angry  
Buddy – type of address for a male

Certifiable – crazy, insane

Ginchy - sexy

Hotshot – someone who thinks he's very important

Bananas – crazy, insane

Piece of cake – something easy

Raunchy – dirty, grimy

Riot – Hilarious

Shoot – interjection of disappointment

Tag along – Come With

Gams – legs

Minxy – sexy, alluring

Blonde Bombshell – Glamorous blonde

Malarky – nonsense  
Guy – a fellow

Scrag – kill

Bats – crazy, insane

Tops – the best

Killer – something or someone excellent outstanding


	13. Death of a Salesman

I was really bored. Incredibly bored. Unbelievably bored.

Edward and Carlisle were in town doing some medical thingamajig. Rosalie never wanted to wrestle with me 'cuz she said it'd mess her hair up. Esme was just too little, I'd probably hurt her in a good fight, and I really didn't think Carlisle would approve of that.

I already spent half the day hunting; I could barely move I was so full of bear's blood. You'd think they could put up a little more of a fight to keep me entertained. _Ugh._ The local wildlife was no match for my strength and speed. I was just too good. It felt good to be the strongest thing out there, but I craved a challenge.

I stared at the clock for the past hour, counting every second of the tick—tick—tick-- as if half my life had passed in every minute. _So bored! So damned bored!_

I raided Carlisle's library looking for a good book, and thumbed through a few dozen boring texts about human anatomy and psychology. I was never much for reading anyway; too boring, not enough action. _I needed to keep busy. I needed something to do._

I was aching for a little adventure, there had to be some excitement around here!

I already tried my hand at seducing Rosalie but as usual she put up a cold shoulder. Esme was nice enough to let me follow her around like a lost pup for a while, but I got bored watching her pour over her blueprints.

I was back to staring at the clock again tick--tick—tick.

I longed for the good old days when my brothers and I used to get into all kinds of trouble breaking young girls' hearts, playing pranks on the kids in town. We got a bang out of gambling, making moonshine, and running from the law for our troublemaking. It was all fairly harmless stuff, but I'm sure I earned my place in hell for it; heaven knows we gave Mamma a lot worry for all our rabble-rousing.

Tick—Tick—Tick.

_Bored – Bored – Bored_

_Great now the clock is mocking me!_

"UGH!" – I flung back my head on the couch and groaned.

_What a sad way to spend all of eternity. _

Just then there was a knock at the door. Not thinking I flung myself over the couch and skidded to the door. I was so happy for anything new to do; the smile nearly split my face in two! I swung the door open wide. There stood a lanky man in a business suit carrying a briefcase.

The scent hit me like a wrecking ball-- sweet and delicious-- my throat flared with flames that felt hot enough to turn iron to steel. There was blackness, and the feel of delicious warmth in my mouth.

"Emmett!" Rosalie cried her voice twisted in pain.

I turned to look at her, only then noticing the limp body of the salesman in my arms. _Oops._

I let the lifeless body of the man slip from my arms to the floor. I slunk backward until I stumbled over a foot stool. I caught my fall with one arm behind me. _Crap—crap--crap._

I looked up to Rosalie's startled expression, her eyes wide with horror. I leapt to my feet, hurdled the dead man at the door step, and fled into the woods.

***

It was nightfall when Edward caught up to me, sitting by the edge of the moonlit pond.

I knew him by his scent.

_I don't want to talk about it Edward._

He just sat beside me for a few hours never saying a word.

_How mad is she? _I thought to myself, well aware Edward could read minds.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked.

_That bad huh?_ There was a long silence.

_I didn't mean to do it. _

"I know." He responded.

I listened to the sound of bullfrogs and crickets. They sang a sad song to reflect my sad mood.

_I'm __behind the 8 ball now__, for sure.__ I doubt she'll ever open up to me now._

"Rosalie is obstinate, but she bears a certain fondness for you." He encouraged.

_And now I've gone and messed it all up. _

_What's with her__ anyway?_

"It's not my story to tell, Emmett." He responded.

I sighed.

"Suffice it to say she experienced a difficult past." He added, cautiously.

"I think I might love her." I said out loud.

"Heaven help you." He answered with a laugh.

I hung my head in my hands. He put one hand on my shoulder.

"If anyone can reach her, you can." He said and smiled encouragingly. He rose to his feet, turned and walked away.

I slowly pulled myself up and headed for home. It was time I talked to Rosalie.

**

*******************************

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

**

To Liebs- my 'had'/'that' policewoman and all-purpose grammar goddess.

You keep my writing above the mark! Every chapter is improved with her feedback.

Your 1930's slang guide for this chapter:

What's with you – What is wrong with you?

Bang – fun, pleasure

Behind the 8 ball – In trouble; disliked by someone.

Thingamajig – object for which a name is unavailable.


	14. Beautiful Monster

Rosalie's POV

The movie reflected my deepest fears. Frankenstein's monster reached out to his intended bride. "Friend?" he inquired. His efforts were met with extreme rejection. As his counterpart shrieked in response to his affection he recoiled, "She hate me! Like others."

The monster couldn't find companionship even with one of its own kind.

I rest my chin on my knees. Watching the black and white images flicker across the wall of the barn, I contemplated my own existence.

Was I nothing more than a monster, cobbled together of various pieces of what I once was?

I certainly felt like a monster. I felt the wild savage beast clawing within me-- a beast who thirsted for violence and human blood. I was beautiful to be sure, but a monster nonetheless.

Could I ever find love? Or as a monster, was I sentenced to wander the earth forever dejected? Who could ever love me? The movie proved not even a monster could love a monster in return.

Honestly, I am still surprised Emmett didn't shriek when he first saw my face, though he might as well. His first words to me were as a knife in my poor, dead heart. "Am I in hell?" he asked. Of course you are… and I was the one who sentenced you here.

By the way, would you like to go steady with the monster who damned you to hell for all eternity?

Then again, maybe Emmett didn't blame me for his eternal damnation. Maybe Emmett truly did enjoy this life as much as he claimed.

It surprised me how easily the man who once reminded me of Vera's little Henry adjusted to his new life. He was always laughing and telling stories. Even so, it was difficult for me to believe anyone could enjoy this life.

Was Emmett truly happy as a vampire? It seemed so.

As I sat, day after day, wracked with my guilt for condemning to hell the one who most mattered to me, he eagerly followed Edward, like a child, challenging him to wrestling matches. Here I was tortured by my existence and Emmett seemed able to make light of everything he lost.

Two years passed since my transformation, why couldn't I learn to love this life as Emmett did?

Maybe it was better for me this way. After all it seemed there was a price for embracing life as a vampire. Not even a week passed since his transformation and already Emmett tasted human blood. It was a sad scene, Emmett killing the salesman. He murdered him and drank his blood. And I was powerless to stop him.

I was very proud… not once having consumed human blood. Perhaps I owed this victory to my deep appreciation of humanity. I would give anything to be human again; Emmett didn't seem to miss it at all. Perhaps this was his undoing. Maybe, if one enjoyed being a vampire it was easier to be a killer.

Was Emmett nothing more than a cold blooded killer? Would he choose to leave our group and pursue the life of a more sinister sort of vampire? Had my attempts to find companionship been in vain?

I attempted to reassure myself the death of the salesman was only an accident. Truthfully Emmett's killing a human was not my greatest cause for concern. Another mortal was dead and I, immortal, was wallowing in self-pity. Could I ever find love? Or was I, as with Frankenstein's monster, destined to live the rest of my days misunderstood -- alone?

To be fair in speaking of love Emmett, like most men, seemed able to appreciate my unsurpassed beauty. Yet once, not so long ago, Royce King found me beautiful as well, yet this did not bring me love.

No… Royce's appreciation of my beauty brought me nothing but regrets and sadness.

I came to loathe my attractiveness, to blame it for what happened to me. I blamed my resplendent appearance for what I had become—cold, barren, in-human. My beauty stood an insurmountable obstacle between myself and love. I was too gorgeous to be appreciated for who I really was.

Were it not for my magnificent looks, perhaps someone would fall in love… with me. Would anyone be able to look past my golden hair and porcelain features to my soul…and fall in love… not with my beauty but with my heart?

No… my exquisiteness distracted men from love, I was something to be owned, not cherished, protected, and adored as I longed to be--as I deserved to be.

I scarcely felt I could ever open my heart to love again. To be so betrayed… so rejected… so abused. It was difficult to trust my heart again.

Damn my foolish heart. I once mistook Royce's infatuation for love, but truthfully I was nothing more than a pretty face to him. What audacity had I to hope matters were any different for Emmett? I doubted anyone could love me for what lay beneath the surface. To suggest otherwise, would be as suggesting one could read a book on the surface of the sun. My loveliness was as blinding as the celestial body.

_Would anyone ever love me… for me?_

What a curse it was to be the most beautiful woman in existence!

I hung my head in my hands and sobbed tearless cries.

The sound of soft footsteps demanded my attention. I raised my head to see Emmett standing before me. I noted sadness in his eyes as he looked at me. Lowering himself to the floor he sat cross legged in front of me.

For a moment I was stunned by his presence. _Oh! How I enjoyed being near him! _

I quickly checked my feelings and, protecting my heart, I scowled at him.

"Should you be this near humans?" I accused.

"It's the middle of the night, Rosalie," he defended. "Everyone's in bed."

_He's got me there; I came here at night for that very reason._ I fumbled with the seam of my dress. Emmett turned to look over his shoulder at the monster projected on the wall. As his final gesture the monster, shedding a tear, destroyed Dr Frankenstein's laboratory along with himself and his mate. I lamented the ease of their situation.

As he turned to face me again, I noticed his face shone brightly. Dimples marked his pale cheeks as he smiled a heart breaking grin. I swooned a little at the sight of him, and then, catching the vulnerability, snapped my stone exterior neatly into place.

"I love movie night!" he gushed enthusiastically. "My whole family used to walk three miles to the Red Barn every Friday to watch movies up on the wall here."

I continued to fumble with the seam of my dress.

"I haven't seen this one before. What is it?" he inquired.

"The Bride of Frankenstein" I responded coldly.

"I remember when I saw the first one!" He exclaimed, laughing. "That was the night I got to first base with--" He stopped short and flashed me an incredulous look.

He chuckled nervously. "So, what are you doing here? Aside from the obvious of course…"

Biting my lip, I hung my head and begun tracing patterns on the floor with my fingertip. I wished my fingers could spell out the words in my heart. I wanted him to know but couldn't bring myself to tell him. I was in pain… I needed comfort. But I didn't want to make myself vulnerable. I didn't want to open myself up to more pain. I didn't know what to do.

"Rosalie, what's wrong?" he asked tenderly. "Are you mad at me for killing the salesman? It really was an accident." He defended.

I shook my head. It wasn't the human I was worried about; it was my own loveless existence that consumed my thoughts. It bothered me to be beautiful and never respected for who I was beneath the beauty on the surface. I was terrified to be alone, and haunted by a future I could never have-- a future with children and a man who would love me as we grew old together.

"Rosalie?" He placed the side of his bent forefinger under my chin and raised my head so I would look him in the eyes.

I stared into his fiery crimson gaze for a moment. Deep emotions played in his eyes and my thoughts spun dizzily about me. It felt as if my heart would spring from my chest, even though it had not beat since the day I awakened as something more than human.

I choked back my feelings and stiffened once more, shrugging my head away from his hand.

The movie reached the end of the reel, and the tape flapped loose on the machinery. I leapt to my feet, wound the tape back, canned it, and then shelved it in the storeroom.

When I turned to leave, I found Emmett standing behind me in the door. His figure was silhouetted by the pale moonlight pouring through the barn window behind him. A silvery halo of light played around the edges of his tall figure. His arm leaned against the door jamb blocking my exit. I made a move to slip past him.

"Not so fast," he said catching one arm around my waist. My heart, could it beat, would shudder in my chest. His touch sent warm heat spreading through my body. I liked the feel of his strong arm around me. My breathing deepened and I felt my resolve slipping... weakening.

_Oh! Rosalie! Don't get yourself into this again! He'll only hurt you! _I tensed in his arms.

"What's with you?" He asked. His voice was soft… kind and reassuring. The sound of his voice sent thrills through my body. There was a feeling of wild excitement, yet at the same time a familiarity like coming home.

"I can't… I can't talk about it." I stammered and ducked between him and the door jamb making my escape.

He caught up to me at the bottom of the stairs. He grabbed me by the wrist and spun me around to face him. His brilliant red eyes burned into my very soul.

"Emmett! Don't… please," I pleaded with him.

"Rosalie, I won't leave you alone until you tell me what's wrong," he insisted.

"I'm glad you like being a vampire so much Emmett, but I think it's absolutely terrible!"

I blurted out, eager to make my escape.

He stood, stunned, at the base of the stairs as I exited the barn, slipping into the black night, leaving my ember of hope behind me.

******

Your 1930's slang guide -

Get first base - Have initial success trying to seduce someone. _He couldn't __get to first base__ with her, let alone score._

"What's with you?" – What's wrong with you?

go steady with – to date exclusively

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

**


	15. Jeanette

*****

_Emmett's POV_

_It was a beautiful day, the sky was a bright blue dotted with puffy white clouds. It was early spring and the air was a little chilly. _

_I wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her close to me to keep her warm._

"_Surely this can wait 'til tomorrow," she insisted, shivering with cold._

"_No," I replied, smiling. "It can't." _

_She stared at me a long minute, twirling my hair around her finger._

"_The groom shouldn't see the bride before the wedding. It's bad luck," she frowned._

"_I couldn't wait another minute to see your face," I cooed. _

_I leaned in and kissed her passionately then bent my head to whisper in her ear. My voice was thick with passion. "Mrs. McCarty."_

_She groaned and I could feel her warm breath on my face. I placed my lips under her ear and planted hungry kisses along her neck from her ear down to her collarbone. I could feel her resistance weakening. Oh! The feel of her skin on my lips so warm, so soft!_

"_Emmett McCarty!" she exclaimed. "We're not quite married yet!" she said smacking me playfully across my chest with her hand. _

_I laughed at her rebuttal. _

"_Ten years is long enough wait!" I encouraged, still chuckling. _

_I burned with a deep need to be close to her. I wanted feel her warm skin against mine… to feel her soft lips against mine. I swept her off her feet and walked a short distance to a nearby tree where I set her on the ground. I took my coat off and wrapped it around her shoulders. _

_With one arm behind her back and my other hand planted firmly on the ground I leaned into her planting hot kisses on her soft warm mouth. I gently coaxed her to lay her back against the ground._

_I felt her fingers grab at my hair pulling me closer to her. I pressed myself against her but kept my weight supported with one arm. My breathing grew ragged as I ran my hand from her waist up along her side._

_Abruptly she stopped returning my kisses. "You've waited ten years and you can surely bide one more day!" she said shoving me aside and sat up._

_Damn!_

_I sat beside her with one arm wrapped around her waist. I stared into her deep green eyes and traced her lips with my thumb._

"_Jeanette, I don't think I can bear to wait another minute!" I pleaded. I loved toying with her; I knew it drove her crazy to be away from me, too._

_We'd been playmates since we met ten years ago, when I was seven and she was five. We were inseparable ever since. She was the other half of me. _

"_I tell you what, Emmett McCarty," she said proudly. "I'll hide and if you can find me you can have me without delay," she said raising one eyebrow at me and flashed me a wicked, playful smile._

_My eyes grew wide at her suggestion. A grin threatened to split my face in half; I loved a challenge. Oh! And what a prize!_

"_You're on!" I said enthusiastically. I closed my eyes and I counted to one hundred before looking for her. _

_I scanned the area and found no sign of her. She wasn't going to make this easy; Jeanette was VERY good at hiding._

"_Come out wherever you are!" I threatened playfully._

_I moved through the woods looking both high and low for Jeanette, she was great at climbing trees. If I put on a good show, hopefully I could make her laugh and reveal her location._

"_Hello?" I called into a hollow tree stump she couldn't possibly hide inside. "I can see you!" I taunted her, hoping I could bluff her from her hiding place. _

_A loud shriek pierced the silence some one hundred yards away. _

_Jeanette! _

_My whole life flashed before my eyes. Our first meeting at Red Barn –movie night, lazy summer days hunting turtles when we were young, playing checkers by the fire, our first kiss, the day I asked her to marry me. I ran towards the sound of her cry. I ran with everything I had within me. _

_I was too late. I couldn't save her. _

_My Jeanette, my love…was dead. _

_I'm so sorry, please forgive me Jeanette. I'm as much to blame for your death as the bear. If only I could have waited until our wedding day to see your beautiful face again, you'd be alive. Now I would never hold you in my arms again. _

_*****_

I had only ever loved once before. And the pain of loosing Jeanette three years ago was still fresh in my mind. An endless string of women couldn't erase her memory.

Not until Rosalie did I ever meet someone I needed like Jeanette. And as I watched Rosalie flee into the night I couldn't help but feel I let her down too.

I needed to make things right. I wanted to make Rosalie happy. It felt like my life depended on it.

*******

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

**


	16. Decisions Decisions

Rosalie's POV

There was a hole in the oil pan the size of my fist and the engine was seized. Scratches and dents marred the once beautiful finish of the Aston Martin Mk II, and the axel was bent at a most unusual angle.

_What a waste of a beautiful piece of machinery! _

I pushed myself out from under the vehicle, wiping my filthy hands on a rag, and scowled at the vehicle's owner. "These mountain paths were not intended for driving."

The strawberry blond shot a guilty look in the direction of the cottage. "Are you unable to repair it? Perhaps we should ask Edward to take a look…"

_She honestly believes Edward could fix this?_

"Edward needn't be involved. To address damage this severe requires a level of expertise only I possess." I wiggled my way back under the vehicle and began loosening the oil pan. A lengthy list of repairs lay before me. The engine needed to re-bored and the piston size increased to compensate, the oil pan would need to be patched… _Oh! The axle needed to be replaced._ Not to mention the countless dents and dings in the chassis warranting repair.

_What was she thinking driving up the mountain… crazy eccentric vampire! _

The abused appearance of the once magnificent luxury vehicle reminded me of myself, stunningly beautiful yet significantly damaged. Unfortunately it would require more than a new axle and a refurbished engine to make me whole again. As I pulled the oil pan from the vehicle, a handful of gravel rained to the ground.

_Was she actually aiming for the rocks and the trees?_

I never understood Tanya and her sisters. To be honest, I did not enjoy their company either. These women prized the attention they received from men--scores of men-- and I was quite accustomed to being the center of attention myself. It made me sick to watch them throw themselves at Edward. A truly beautiful woman needn't fling herself at a man to get his attention. No, these ladies were imposters, like a flashy eight carat ring that was really made of glass; where as I was the genuine article – a perfectly cut diamond priceless in its beauty.

It comforted me to find Edward was no more moved by their beauty than he was by mine. Not that I was interested in Edward… in that way. I simply was accustomed to men appreciating my magnificence, and he never seemed to notice my radiance--it irritated me.

_Was I not gorgeous enough to interest Edward? _

Being beautiful was the one thing I truly excelled in and I hated being second to anyone—in anything. Certainly if I were the most attractive woman in existence, Tanya and her sisters were not far behind. Yet Edward never paid a single one of us any attention. Perhaps Edward simply wasn't interested in women?

That must be it; I couldn't have lost my appeal. With the way Emmett stared at me... it was clear I still had an effect on men. But what did it matter anyway? My beauty only earned me heartache in the past. My magnificence was a curse.

Shimmying out from under the vehicle I set the battered oil pan aside and began loosening the mounts for the engine. A loud crashing came from within cottage followed by Esme's scolding, "You boys better take the horseplay outside!"

"Yes Mother," I could hear Edward respond with a smile in his voice. The cottage door's hinges squeaked as it swung open, and Edward strolled into the clearing outside our modest mountain home. Emmett following closely behind him was picking fragments of wood from his hair.

"Ok, best two out of three!" Emmett challenged, "But turn off the mind reading thing will you? It's cheating!"

"You know, quite well, I'm unable to turn it off, Emmett," Edward chuckled.

There was merriment in my brother's attitude as of late. Until recently the sounds of joy and laughter in our household were an altogether uncommon experience. It seemed Emmett coaxed out the playful side of Edward. The two of them certainly spent a lot of time together following Emmett's incident with the salesman. With his gift for reading minds, Edward earned the responsibility for keeping Emmett on the straight and narrow path. It was a full time job watching after Emmett… it's a good thing vampires never slept.

"It can't hurt to try," Emmett urged. Edward folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes while Emmett paced circles around him looking for a chance to strike.

I placed another nut from the engine mount in my pocket and returned my attention to the battered vehicle before me.

"Mmmmmm," Tanya groaned appreciatively, staring at the two young men wrestling in the field, "He certainly is easy on the eyes." Tanya made no secret of her infatuation with Edward; she might publish her intentions in the newspaper for as subtle as she was in her efforts to seduce him. She had no respect for the art of being beautiful.

I rolled my eyes, continuing to loosen the hardware securing the engine to the frame of the disabled vehicle.

"The new guy isn't half bad either," She noted appraising Emmett with a slow gaze raking him from head to toe.

_He's too good for her! _Without thinking I loosed a snarl between my lips.

"Easy now," the brazen harlot chided me. "You have scarcely laid an eye on him since I arrived. You can not honestly expect me to believe —"

I looked up and found Emmett's eyes fixed on mine. With one leg Edward swept Emmett's feet from underneath him. Emmett fell to the ground with a thump.

Realizing my role in the distraction I became overwhelmed with embarrassment.

_UGH! I really screwed things up now._

I let the wrench drop from my hands and fled into the woods.

**

Stomping my feet I abused the autumn leaves along the river bank as I paced to and fro. My frantic thoughts kept pace with my footsteps. I was furious with myself for loosing control of my emotions in front of Emmett.

I wanted to be with him… how could I not long to be near him? He was pure joy--infectious joy. Even Edward delighted to be near him. He possessed an enthusiasm for life which inspired others around him.

But I possessed the power to transmute such innocence into wickedness. Like a disease my remarkable beauty corrupted Royce King, calling forth his darker sinister side. Perhaps the same evil tendencies lay dormant within Emmett awaiting the gift of my love to open Pandora's Box. As the most attractive woman in existence, I became something to be owned, a crown jewel…a precious bauble that men would rather destroy than loose to another.

I could not afford to let down my guard. If Emmett knew… if he really even suspected how much he meant to me, he would never stop perusing me. It was wrong to react to Tanya's comment with Emmett so near. The thought of Emmett with his arms wrapped around Tanya made me sick with grief. Caught off guard for a moment by my emotions I let my true feelings show. I should have known better than to be so careless.

_What had I done? How could I leave myself so vulnerable?_

What should it matter, if he and Tanya were together? Why should it bother me to imagine Emmett with Tanya if I didn't want him for myself?

But I DID want him for myself! When Emmett was near I felt the glimmering potential for happiness in the distance. I didn't want to lose him. He was my hope-- my light in the darkness. He represented a purity and happiness I could never have but always wanted near me.

Tanya was all wrong for him. He was considerate, gentle, and naive. She merely used and discarded men as if they were fashion accessories. Emmett deserved better than someone who looked at him as nothing more than another notch in her belt.

Emmett deserved someone who could appreciate his sense of humor, the sparkle in his eyes when he told a story, the way his laughter shook the ground beneath your feet.

I balanced on the edge of a great precipice. I could not endure the pain of losing him, yet if I gave him power over my heart would he betray my trust… my faith, as Royce betrayed my love?

I trembled with fear finding my choices equally terrifying; however, I could delay no further. I must make my choice either to make Emmett my own or lose him forever.

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

**


	17. What Happened

Emmett's POV

Dark clouds gathered overhead and the wind began to howl through the trees. I was following Rosalie's scent through the forest. She was upset by something Tanya said-- something about me…being attractive? Rosalie's reaction surprised me. Why would she care what Tanya thought of me?

Rosalie went to great lengths to avoid me; in fact it felt like all I ever saw of her was her backside—and _WOW! What a view. _Was it possible Rosalie had feelings for me even if she never let me get close to her?

When I was with her it seemed like we were the only two people in the world. Sometimes when I looked at her there was a little flicker of warmth in her eyes… it made me wonder if she enjoyed being with me too. But it was never long before she was running from me again. _What was she so afraid of?_

I hated seeing her unhappy, and Edward's suggestion of wearing a bag over my head was not helpful, so I spent a lot of my time chasing after the woman trying to make things right between us. There was a softer side to Rosalie I could see peaking around the edges of her tough exterior. Perhaps she wanted to be with me but simply didn't know how to be near me. I wanted to make her happy I just didn't know how. _What do you want from me, Rosalie? How can I make you happy?_

I found her pacing by the river. When she heard me approach she stopped and turned to look at me. The wild wind caught her golden hair and threw it around her head like a nest of angry snakes. Her honey eyes were wide with sadness and light reflected off a single drop of moisture on her cheek-- a tear? _Impossible._

It was hard to get over a woman as gorgeous as Rosalie. She looked like an angel sent down from heaven. It broke my heart to see her so sad… it felt like I was letting her down. I wanted to see her smile. I wanted her to be happy.

_I wish she would let me get close to her. Why is she always running away from me?_

I felt a drop of moisture hit my face too. _It must be about to rain._

Unmoving we stared at each other for a long moment. She looked so sad. I wanted to run to her and wrap her in my arms and make her feel better. But the look of uncertainty in her face warned me to keep my distance so I wouldn't spook her. I slowly reached out my hand to her like she was a wild animal, trying to comfort her… reassure her from a distance.

Then, just the heavens opened and rain poured down on us, she leapt at me.

Rosalie slammed into me with such force I had to wrap my arms around her to keep her from bouncing off my broad chest. I was shocked--overwhelmed when I realized her lips were pressing frantically against mine. _WHOA! Why the sudden change of heart?_

Her desperate kisses continued and I could feel her trembling in my arms. It took me a moment to catch my bearings before I began returning her desperate kisses with slower deeper kisses of my own.

_I can't believe she's kissing me!_ Her smooth lips parted slightly when they met mine and I could taste her scent – strawberries and honeysuckle – mixing with the rain on my tongue.

Not wanting her to escape, I wrapped her tightly in my arms, pressing her rain soaked body to mine. She surprised me by running her slender fingers through my curly wet hair. I gasped for air not from a physical need to breathe but because I was… overwhelmed by my desire for her.

Pulling my face closer to hers she kissed my forehead, cheeks, and nose before returning her hungry kisses my mouth again. I groaned as I felt fire burn through my body. Her lips parted and she gently touched her tongue to my lower lip as she kissed it, sucking slightly as she closed her lips around mine. I felt dizzy…sick with desire… I wanted her desperately. I needed her.

I swept her into my arms. Her clothes soaked with rain clung tightly to her perfect body.

As she continued to kiss me, her fingers traced the contours of my chest through my wet shirt. I carried her to a mossy spot beneath a tree and lay her down beneath it leaning over her my body pressed against hers my mouth returning her passionate kisses.

She pulled my shirt over my head exposing my bare chest and shoulders to the rain. The wet did not bother us– vampires did not feel cold – rather the rain felt like hundreds of little kisses on my skin. She kissed hungrily along my jaw and down my neck to my collarbone.

_Wait!_

_Wait! Think Emmett. _It was hard to think with her smooth plump lips pressing against my chest.

_No. No._ This wasn't right. It felt right… but it wasn't right.

Some little voice in my head told me I couldn't do this. Not now-- not like this. I wanted to shove that voice in a box and tell it to be quiet. I wanted to keep kissing Rosalie. But that little voice kept bugging me.

_No. This wasn't right. _

It felt like I was taking advantage of her. I still wasn't sure she wouldn't regret taking this next step with me. I wanted everything to be right between us. I couldn't lose her.

Now that I knew the sweet taste of her mouth I knew I couldn't live without her.

One night with Rosalie was not enough, forever was nothing without her. I needed to understand how to make her happy first so she would stay with me always.

As she began to unbutton her own blouse, I raised one hand to stop her. A look of pain and confusion crossed her face. She meant more to me than the simple act of making love. I needed her to know she could trust me with her heart and not just her body. I could wait for this to happen the right way…at least I think I could wait… she was unbelievably sexy and very hard to resist.

_No_. I suffered for my lack of patience in the past. This time I would do things differently. It was better to wait and have her forever than to lose her for my impatience like I lost Jeanette before.

"Not that I mind the change… but what's gotten into you?" I asked raising one eyebrow.

She flashed me an incredulous look. "Is—Isn't this what you want?" she asked.

I grinned widely. "You know it is, Rosalie," I chose my words carefully, "But not like this. I don't want you to regret being with me."

Her mouth formed a perfect O in surprise. _Oh! That beautiful mouth! I could be kissing her fantastic mouth right now-- what was I thinking?_ _Stick with the program Emmett._

I ran my fingers through my wet curly hair. I grinned sheepishly at her, worried I might not be strong enough to resist her. She continued to stare at me like I was completely bananas.

"Rosalie, you're the ginchiest woman I've ever met and I want to be with you. But there's more to what I feel about you than the way you look. I care about you. And I want you to be happy. I can't stand to see you sad." Not saying a word, she continued to stare at me in shock.

I continued, "Not long ago you didn't want anything to do with me, and I just want to be sure this… is what you want too. I want to get to know you better Rosalie Hale. I want to understand what makes you upset and how to make you happy."

She diverted her gaze from mine. "What- What would you like to know?"

I lifted her chin to look into her eyes. She was sad – so sad.

_I might as well get the big question out of the way first._

"What happened to you, Rosalie? Why do you act the way you do around me?"

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

**

****  
Your 1930s slang glossary for this chapter:

Bananas – crazy, insane.  
Spook – Scare, frighten

Ginchy - sexy


	18. Daylight

_**Rosalie's POV**_

Dark clouds, carrying relentless rain, choked the night sky from view. The nearby river, pregnant with newly collected moisture, thrashed against its banks threatening to break free of its rocky prison. Wind groaned through the trees…wailing, mournful; echoing the pain I felt within.

_How do you explain to someone that your former fiancé beat you and left you for dead?_

As much as I wanted to bury my sordid past, my unbearable pain…I owed Emmett the truth. Pain twisted in my long useless stomach; my terrible dilemma nagging me, like the taunt of a cat to its prey. I wanted to bury my past, to forget it forever; yet what I needed was to bring it into the open—and it terrified me. Would speaking the words aloud make the nightmare more real?

Avoiding his gaze, I focused for a moment the raindrops which traced serpentine paths across the smooth contours of his broad chest and bare shoulders. He claimed he wanted to know me; yet my life, my past--my terrible, hideous past-- was nothing like my beautiful face. Though my countenance was as lovely as that of any princess, my life did not possess the happy ending of a fairy story. I did not wish to be defined by my tragic past, my depressing history, yet for two years it became my sole identity. I knew, deep within, the only way I could obtain my freedom was to thrust my terrible secret into the light.

What of Emmett? Would he accept me as damaged goods? Or, realizing the extent of my psychological damage would he turn and leave me forever? In my silence I could loose him forever; yet I could not pretend to be anyone other than who I truly was. I decided he must have me as I am or not at all, though I despaired at the thought of loosing him.

Time slowed to a standstill each raindrop frozen around us like thousands of little tears. He was waiting for my reply. In this infinite moment I held fate in my hands, the delicate crocus blossom of early spring. I would offer my heart as a sacrifice to do with as he pleased; be it to delight me with the realization of his acceptance or to dash my hopes and dreams like glass upon the rocks below.

_How do you explain to someone that your former fiancé beat you and left you for dead?_

I decided to take the direct approach.

"My former fiancé beat me and left me for dead," I stammered. _No points for subtlety._

His face contorted in confusion, surprise… it was obvious he wasn't anticipating my answer. Clearly, from the way he gasped and floundered, he needed a moment to process my confession; perhaps I should have chosen a less severe approach of delivering my terrible news? It was too late for regrets now, my heart was forfeit…he held my happiness, my world in his hands now. I felt naked, exposed—ashamed.

I pulled my arms around my legs and tucked into a tight ball, lying on my side. A pillow of wet moss was my bedfellow; the smell of rain and mud my only companions. I cloaked myself in self pity, in sorrow.

_Yep, you're a real piece of work, Rosalie Hale._

The rain assaulted me as I contemplated my existence. Flick –Flick-- Flick the rain mocked me for making myself so vulnerable.

I pressed my eyes closed hoping to keep the nightmarish memories at bay yet they twisted around me like the deadly embrace of a snake. Wet clothing clung to my skin and the haunted past I could never shake dominated my thoughts. I wished the rain could wash away my past, though not even the fire of transformation could burn it from my memory. I would forever be haunted by what Royce King did to me; I would never again be the same, happy Rosalie Hale I was as a human.

The sensation of a strong hand touching my shoulder recalled my attention to the present. I opened my eyes and met Emmett's blood red gaze.

_Now the moment of truth. _I steeled myself against the heartbreak I feared would soon befall me. His brow was furrowed with concern, his eyes hardened with a hatred I knew all too well. This… his response… is where my world could come to a crashing end. I held my breath in anticipation.

"Tell me who the guy is and I'll kill him," he offered somberly.

"I already took care of him," I replied my voice hissing through my teeth. A look of astonishment flashed across his face. His eyes brightened and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"And his friends," I added with a wicked grin.

He smiled and nodded in approval. I was stunned by his brilliant smile and the dimples marking his pale cheeks. He shone from the inside when he smiled, like he swallowed sunlight, it left me speechless. Without warning he swept me into his arms and hugged me so tightly I thought my chest would collapse. I scarcely had time to ponder the inappropriateness of his joyous reaction to the news that I was a murderer.

"Rosalie, I love you," he admitted, holding me out at arms length so he could look me in the eyes. Then he kissed me with such passion and fervor I found myself breathless. I surrendered myself to his exuberant embrace. His kisses felt like fire warming my lips and my cold dead heart.

_Wait...what?_ "You… love me?" I questioned, pulling away from him. The words seemed all wrong, how could he love me? I must be dreaming; I shook my head from side to side, hoping to clear my thoughts.

He wore a cautious look as if he wished he could recall his profession of love. I steeled myself against the pain I anticipated would come next.

"Don't go, please don't go," he pleaded with me.

_He… wants me to stay?_ It caught me off guard, I felt weak in the knees like some silly human in a romantic story. _No, surely he must be mistaken._

"How could you…? Why do you…? I don't understand." Only moments ago, I despaired of loosing him, now somehow he loved me? _Could it be true?_ I didn't dare give myself over to hope, my instincts directed me to self-preservation once again. I turned to leave but he caught me by the wrist, spinning me around to face him. He was down on his knees, both of his hands wrapped around mine. He looked up at me pleading with his brilliant red eyes. Raindrops fell on his eyelids and ran in streams down his cheeks, nose, and over his perfect lips.

"Rosalie, don't go. Please, stay with me. I'd do anything to make you happy." He pressed his full lips to my slender hands, kissing them repeatedly before he looked at me again. I was stunned, confused; it took all my strength and effort to recollect my thoughts. Staring deeply into his crimson eyes, I wondered what it is this exuberant individual could possibly see… in me.

_No, Rosalie, no, you're deluding yourself if you think he could truly love you; remember Royce… remember what happened._

"No-one could possibly love me," I dictated. He flinched as if my words wounded him, recoiling as if I burnt him with my assertion. I didn't want to hurt him, but perhaps it was the only way to save us both from misery. My beauty corrupted good men and brought me only pain. I anticipated an eternity of misery, it was only right he should hate me; I was nothing more than a pretty face to any man. My beauty drove men to madness.

However, my surprise he quickly regained his composition. "I love you, Rosalie," he professed boldly. Raindrops danced on his lips as he spoke. His voice was like the rush of water in a river: it caressed with a gentle touch, yet given time would weather even the hardest rock. I wanted to yield to his will, to admit his love for me… but it was simply too good to be true. It would only bring me pain to convince myself otherwise.

"No you don't," I demanded, "you are merely infatuated by my appearance." He clenched his jaw tightly.

"I LOVE YOU, Rosalie Hale," he claimed even more loudly.

"Surely you are mistaken," I insisted. Fire and determination glinted in his eyes; his resolute reply came louder still, the thunder of water from a great height upon the unyielding rocks below.

"I LOVE YOU, ROSALIE Hale," the trees shook with his profession of love. Squirrels, having been disturbed from their roost, chattered angrily in the trees.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I replied firmly.

"I LOVE YOU ROSALIE HALE!" the ground thrummed with his assertion of love for me, the rocks trembled…the very clouds in the sky parted and the rain ceased. Brilliant stars, glittering like precious gems, illuminated the dark heavens above us casting a silvery glow on the trees and grass, still glistening with moisture.

"Shhhh!" I chided him, a smile threatening my austere demeanor. "You'll wake all of Gatlinburg!" I giggled at his audacity. He must be half mad to make such a scene.

He leapt to his feet and took my face in his large hands. The intensity of his gaze, like hot coals, bored through to my very soul. "I love you, Rosalie," he whispered with great sincerity, "surely you can feel it."

_What did I feel?_ I felt the strength of his enormous hands on mine, the earnestness with which he looked at me, the tenderness in his voice when he said my name. I felt a gentle breeze against my damp cheek and a deep longing within my cold dead heart.

For two years I allowed myself to drown in anger, fear, and loneliness. The nightmarish experience with my former fiancé shattered my faith in love. I blamed myself for falling in love with Royce, for allowing myself to be vulnerable. I became afraid of love and fought against the growing feelings I held for Emmett, confident he would betray me as Royce did.

Yet when I met Emmett, I felt something other than fear and despair though I tried to hide it, tried to deny it. I felt a new light around the edges, a warmth around the fringes of my existence. I felt…hope. Hope the world wasn't as dismal as Royce made me believe it was; hope true beauty, happiness, and love existed in the world.

_What did I feel?_ I felt deep in my very soul; Emmett was unlike anyone I had ever known before, the polar opposite of my former fiancé. There was gentleness in his eyes, the sparkle of child-like innocence in his dimpled smile. He was a sympathetic listener, patient, and persistent. I ached to be with him, I yearned to hold him in my arms and never let him go.

Slowly, the black velvet sky faded to grey, the stars above us began to fade, and the horizon was painted with the faint pink hues of the coming dawn. I remembered the many times I panicked when he held me close, bolting like a skittish pony, fleeing instead of facing my fear. Dutifully he followed whenever I ran, he was never cross with me, never frustrated; rather he was concerned for me, pleading with me to open up to him… to let him into my heart. He said wanted to get to know me and I believed him. The sincerity in his eyes when he looked at me, the reassuring tone of his voice suggested he truly cared. Emmett wanted to know me on the inside, not just the pretty face.

As the sun ascended the sky burst into brilliant shades of orange.

And that's when I realized, I had finally found true love.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

*****  
A special thanks to Liebs for her help with this chapter!! **

*****  
To the Readers – This chapter was long coming but not for lack of working on it. I decided to amp it up and worked to hopefully take my writing to the next level in the chapter. I hope it was worth the wait. **  
****

This song 'Daylight' by Coldplay has been bouncing around in my head with relation to Rosalie and Emmett for some time and influenced this chapter =)

To my sunk eyes  
On my daylight  
I saw a sunrise  
I saw a sunlight.

I have no fear  
In the dark  
And the clouds burst  
To show the daylight

Oooh and the sunshine  
Yeah on a starry night  
Ooooh and I realised  
Ooooh could I live without  
Ooooh could I part without

On a hill top  
On the sky rise  
Like a first born  
Child

On a full day  
On a full flight  
I feel darkness  
In the daylight

Oooh and the sunshine  
Yeah on a starry night  
Ooooh and I realised  
Ooooh could I live without  
Ooooh could I part without  
Bring me your love

Slowly breaking through the daylight ...


	19. Happy

Emmett's POV

I stared deeply into Rosalie's honey eyes as dawn broke on the horizon. She was so stubborn; it drove me crazy but I also loved it about her. I told Rosalie I loved her… repeatedly I insisted I loved her but she refused to believe me. I never minded a challenge though, Rosalie as a prize was worth any effort. _Come on, Rosalie, you know it's true-- I love you._

As the sun rose over the horizon her face changed from determined to confused, her forehead wrinkled up and her bottom lip stuck out in a delicious pout. _Mmm what fantastic lips!_ Would she finally admit I loved her? I realized I was holding my breath. _Breathe, Emmett, not because you have to but so she won't know you're going __bananas__._

I was waiting, waiting for her response. Would she believe me? What's worse, I worried she'd run from me again. _Please don't be afraid…don't leave. I couldn't bear to loose you. _I had no idea what I could do to make her stay. I might spend my entire life chasing after this beautiful woman and I'd do it gladly; I couldn't live without Rosalie. For now all I could do is stare at her and wait.

"You… love me?" Her eyes were wild with surprise_. _

_That a girl; it's a start, now let's hope for the "Happily Ever After" ending where she doesn't end up running from me again. _I squeezed her hands tightly, hoping it would be enough to keep her here with me.

"You love me," she repeated in astonishment. Golden rays of sunlight reflected on her wet hair, slowly making their way to her full, perfect mouth. Her mouth was out of this world! Her lips were plump as a ripe strawberry-- begging to be tasted.

"I really do," I answered, wrapping my arms tightly around her. I wanted to keep her close to me. I could feel the rise and fall of her breathing against my chest. Bending my head down to hers, I gently kissed her wet hair, and then rested my cheek atop her head. The rising sun turned the nearby river to gold.

She was afraid of love, it all made sense now. Her former fiancé was a monster-- her murderer. She was damaged…untrusting, which was why she was always running from me.

How could he hurt her? She was such a beautiful, fascinating woman_. _ It was impossible for me to understand how anyone could deny her love. It made me **so angry** to think of anyone hurting her when all I wanted was to protect her, make her feel safe -- happy. I would have killed the nogoodnik if she hadn't already taken care of matters. It probably took a lot of guts for Rosalie to face her killer; she was a truly impressive woman.

She stayed, wrapped in my arms, until the sun warmed our skin, reflecting shards of light on the forest around us. She fit perfectly in my arms like two pieces of a puzzle meant to be together, her cheek resting against my strong chest. In the trees around us, birds sang a happy song, welcoming the new day. Slowly she pulled away to look me in the eyes. Sunlight sparkled on her perfect face. _My angel._ She was so beautiful; it took my breath away-- not that I needed to breathe anymore … but even as a human I knew she would always have my heart.

Cupping her jaw with my palm and resting my thumb on her cheek, I bent to kiss her perfect mouth. Gently I pressed my lips against hers…they felt smooth as a river stone against mine. She was everything to me. Pulling back I stared again into her honey eyes; her eyes were wide, she wore a look of wonder on her gorgeous face.

"Still surprised?" I chuckled. _How anyone could not love her was beyond me._

She smiled in response. If my heart was still beating it would stop at this very moment. She was radiant; I had never seen a smile so gorgeous in my whole life. Reaching up on her toes, she pressed her ginchy mouth to mine kissing my bottom lip first before kissing my full mouth.

And there she stayed, wrapped in my arms. I could hardly believe this was real, she wanted to be with me… she wasn't on edge any more. I was so happy I laughed and, swinging her into my arms, spun around in circles, holding her tight to my chest. Laughing with me, she peppered my cheeks and lips with kisses. Her laughter was like wonderful music._ I love seeing her happy._

"I have waited my whole life for you," she said, her honey eyes staring deep in mine. A small grin bent the corners of her lips. Casually, she twirled the hair at the base of my neck with her fingers. I could hardly believe my luck, Rosalie Hale was in my arms and she was smiling, laughing! Maybe this wasn't luck, maybe it was fate; this was, after all, where I belonged—with Rosalie in my arms.

I always knew, underneath her cold exterior, there was a softer side to Rosalie. There was a gentler, kinder, vulnerable side she never let anyone see._ She kept her distance to protect herself; it must have been horrible to go through what she went through. _And now, here with me, she was happy. My heart, like the river nearby, felt like it would overflow.

Cleansed by the rain, the forest had a heavy earthy smell to it. Rosalie's heavenly scent, strawberries and honeysuckle, mixed with the fresh smell of rain and earth. The smell of her, being here with this stubborn woman in my arms, everything was right – we fit. Being with Rosalie was like coming home, she made me feel complete. She was everything I ever wanted but never knew I needed – before now.

I needed Rosalie – loving her is part of who I became. For the first time, since Jeannette, I was truly, completely happy—not just on the surface. Happiness shot out from every inch of me like the golden sun rising into the sky.

I found my purpose in life-- to make her happy-- it's all I could ever want or need.

There was only one thing left to say – one thing I needed to make this moment complete.

Cupping her chin in my strong hand I raised her stunning face to meet my gaze; marveling at the gentle, vulnerable look in her gorgeous eyes.

"Rosalie," I dropped to my knees holding her hand in mine, "I couldn't live a single day without you. Please, make me the happiest man alive or dead; promise never to leave me again."

I searched her honey eyes for the answer, "Will you marry me?"

Rosalie dropped to her knees and taking my face in her pale slender hands pressed her beautiful plump lips to mine. I felt the earth move.

Rosalie's kiss was the only answer I needed. In this moment the most wonderful woman in all of heaven and earth surrendered her soul to me. My angel…was mine forever.

…………

**The End**

:----------------:

**NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which this story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived. **

**Reference: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse**

_______

Your 1930's Slang Glossary

Ginchy – sexy

On edge - nervous

Lame-brain – A stupid or foolish person

Bananas – Crazy, insane

Out of this world – excellent, outstanding.

Nogoodnik – a bad or worthless person

Guts - courage

To my readers-

Sorry this took so long to get out. It was written up before the last chapter was posted. But I just wasn't sure about it. It seemed like fluff to me and I was worried that it wasn't true to Emmett's voice. I held onto it for weeks as is before sending it out to my first string readers- grammar goddess (Liebs) and my pal Writermom. I'm told it's still good entertainment so after much deliberation I've decided to tweak the ending and share it with you.

Thank you for all your patience and support. Having wrapped up Rosalie's story I will

endeavor to take on new projects.

-TTM

****

I don't know what it is about Cold Play's Album "A Rush of Blood to the Head" but I keep hearing themes for Rosalie and Emmett in their songs. Here's one for Emmett and Rosalie this chapter. (Also 'She Is' by The Fray was another great inspiration).

**By ColdPlay **- Green Eyes

Honey you are a rock.

Upon which I stand.

And I come here to talk.

I hope you understand.

That green eyes, yeah the spotlight shines upon you.

And how could, anybody deny you?

I came here with a load and it feels so much lighter now I met you.

And honey you should know, that I could never go on without you.

Green eyes.

Honey you are the sea.

Upon which I flow.

And I came here to talk.

I think you should know.

That green eyes, you're the one that I wanted to find.

And anyone tried to deny you must be out of their mind.

Because I came here with a load, and it feels so much lighter since I met you.

And honey you should know, that I could never go on without you.

Green eyes. Green eyes. Oh oh oh oh.

Honey you are a rock.

Upon which I stand.


End file.
